


Neon lights and Pastel skies

by Sapphire_Soul



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Absent Parents, Alcohol, Angst, Cuddling, Dysfunctional Family, Fluff, Friends With Benefits, Friends to Lovers, Kissing, M/M, OT5 Friendship, Recreational Drug Use, Smut, codependent best friends, teenagers trying to find themselves
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-18
Updated: 2015-10-15
Packaged: 2018-04-21 10:21:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 30,804
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4825355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sapphire_Soul/pseuds/Sapphire_Soul
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After seven years of firendship Harry and Louis have mastered the art of blurring the lines between friendship and lovers, but the right set of circumstances may tip them over the edge. Through a summer of rainstorms and sneaking out, trips to the coast and nights huddled together beneath the stars, their shared experience of family disintegration will push their reliance on each other to new heights, and may finally force them to acknowledge the desires they've been carefully avoiding for so many years.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Storm

**Author's Note:**

> So this is my first time posting anything for public consumption, please be nice :) I began writing this story to fulfill my own desire for a fluffy teenage larry fic, with a good smattering of smut thrown in there as well. There is a bit more angst in here than I had expected but so far none of it involves the relationships between the boys, all angst stems from Louis or Harry's home life. But for the most part this fic is meant to be bright and fun and nostalgic. I would like to place a trigger warning for bad parenting, and parents verbally fighting. enjoy!

    Harry hesitates outside of Louis’ bedroom window. It’s the first time in years that he’s felt hesitant about sneaking into Louis’ room. The air is warm outside, the heat of the summer day still lingers in the darkness, rising up from the black asphalt road and caressing Harry’s skin softly. But the blanket of residual warmth in the air does nothing to ease Harry’s goosebumps as he listens to muffled anger leak down from the second story of Louis’ house. Louis’ parents are arguing, yelling at each other in a way that he’s never heard in his seven years of friendship with Louis.

 

Harry sneaks his fingers under the crack of Louis’s window before he can talk himself into giving Louis’ family some privacy. He pushes the window open far enough to swing his body into the dark room.

 

“Harry, what the hell?” Louis’ frustrated hiss grates across Harry’s nerves as soon as he is stood at full height in the darkened room. He turns around and pushes the window closed, ignoring Louis’ angry tone and walking over to his bed.

 

“You’ve been climbing into my room every fucking night this week, give me some privacy tonight.” Louis snaps at him. He’s never once complained about Harry’s visits and the unexpected complaint stings the inside of his chest. Harry shrugs off the harshness of Louis’ words and searches for his best friends eyes in the dark room. Above them something thuds against the ground and more angry shouts scratch against the awkward silence between Harry and Louis.

 

“Harry, please get out. You can’t be here right now.” Harry ignores Louis’ command and crawls on the bed towards his silhouette. How long has Louis been sitting in the darkness of his room, by himself?  There is no TV on, no lights on, no IPod lit up next to him. Its dark and silent, except for the argument still in full swing on the floor above. Harry’s chest tightens with anxiety for his best friend.

 

“Louis…”

 

“Harry, just go home okay?” Louis’ voice is a forced whisper, still angry and pointed. The argument between his parents rises in volume, words are shouted loud enough that harry could make them out if he tried hard enough to focus on them. Instead he crawls further onto Louis’ bed, scooting to sit shoulder to shoulder with him against the wall.

 

“You wanna come over to mine?” Harry whispers over the anger leaking down from Louis’ ceiling.

 

“No. I want you to leave.” Louis’ voice is tight and impatient. Harry ignores it.

 

“Then let’s turn on a movie, yeah?” Harry offers in a soft voice.

 

“No.” Louis replies immediately. Stubbornly.  Harry’s shoulder and knee are warm, pressed up against Louis’. His muscles ache to reach out and grab Louis’ hand, but he knows that he won’t take well to sympathy right now. Harry can feel the tension in Louis’ body next to his. He is clearly wound up tight and ready to strike.

 

“Where are the girls?” Harry asks quietly.

 

“Lottie and Fizzy are at a friend’s house. Daisy and Phoebe are asleep in their room, I think.”

 

“Is that why you won’t leave, because of the girls?” Harry says it as a question, but he knows it is the truth without a doubt. Louis has always been protective by nature.

 

“Why are we sitting in the dark?” Harry asks. He waits for Louis’ answer, listening as a door is slammed upstairs with such force that Harry flinches.

 

“Louis, why don’t we turn on a movie or something?” Harry asks gently again. This time he turns his head to look at Louis’ profile. He is sitting close, and even in the darkness harry can make out Louis’ thick eyelashes fanned out against his cheek.  His jaw is clenched tightly.

 

“I don’t want them to hear the movie start up. I don’t want them to realize I’ve been listening to their fight, okay? I don’t want one of them to try to explain it tomorrow.” Louis’ voice has finally lost its anger. His words are a quiet confession in the darkness of the room, and Harry swallows a lump of emotion at the base of his throat.

 

It’s just an argument. People argue all the time, so why there is so much sadness knotted up in Harry’s stomach? As another door slams above them, two small girls push open Louis’ bedroom door.

 

“Louis?” a tiny voice calls out softly, both of Louis’ twin sisters stand against the glow of the hallway light. The hair on the back of Harry’s neck prickles as Louis’ mom begins shouting again, and the hard, angry voice of Louis’ step dad, Mark, screams back defensively.

 

“C’mon in girls, me and Harry were just trying to decide on a movie.” Louis’ voice transforms into a soothing tone, sounding almost as if he were smiling, and the lump in Harry’s throat grows bigger, nearly choking him as he tries to draw in a breath.  Daisy crawls up into Louis’ lap and Phoebe curls into Harry’s side. Harry blinks his eyes up at the ceiling to control the tears that press behind his eyes as he wraps an arm around the shoulders of Louis’ younger sister.

 

It’s just an argument, Harry reminds himself. In reality it’s a miracle that at the ages of 16 and 17, neither boy has ever experienced a parental fight as bad as this one. But… Johanna just sounds so angry. Harry has never heard Jay scream like this before. She chastises Louis on a daily basis, shouts in exasperation at the chaos of 5 children. But right now… she sounds so pained behind the angry shouts. She sounds distraught and out of control and Harry’s chest is tight with helplessness.

“What do you feel like watching, huh girls? How about ‘The Land Before Time’?” Louis’ voice is soft and controlled, soothing against Harry’s anxieties as Phoebe burrows deeper into his side. Before either girl can reply Louis shifts Daisy off of his lap and walks over to the TV set at the other end of the room. Daisy crawls over and tucks her seven year old form under Harry’s free arm, sharing a look with her sister.

 

“Ya alright, Daisy?” Harry whispers against her hair as Louis rummages around for the right movie. Daisy nods silently as the argument above continues on, her pale eyelashes flickering up towards the ceiling for a moment. Harry hugs the twins to his sides gently and the room around them lights up with a muted glow as the TV comes to life.

 

“Did you two watch the Power Rangers episode this morning?” Harry mutters between the twins, hoping to keep them distracted while Louis sets up the movie, their hair looking silver in the light.

 

“It was quite exciting, wasn’t it? I didn’t think the yellow ranger was gonna make it!” Harry whispers with as much excitement as he can manage under the circumstances.

 

“The yellow ranger is the best.” Daisy whispers on his right side as the quiet music of the movie starts up.

 

“She is very good at fighting, but I think the pink is my favorite.” Harry whispers back, and he lets himself smile down at the small girl curled against him.

 

“I like the blue ranger, coz not many people like him and he deserves some attention. He’s really smart.” Phoebe adds softly.

 

“That’s very kind of you, Phoebs.” Harry smiles down at her softly and then glances up to check on Louis. Louis is staring at Harry and the twins from in front of the TV, his silhouette glowing around the edges from the digital light. When he catches Harry’s eye he shifts his gaze up towards the ceiling and blinks rapidly a few times. He runs his hands down his face in a harsh movement and Harry swallows thickly. Louis looks so stressed.

 

“You ready to start the movie girls?” Louis’ voice travels across the room with false cheeriness, and Harry stares at the tense lines of Louis’ body as the girls answer with affirmation. Louis nods his forehead to the side, subtly beckoning Harry to him.

 

“You girls get comfortable in the blankets okay?” Harry whispers to the twins as he climbs off of the bed and makes his way to the bedroom window, where Louis joins him to give the girls a clear view of the movie.

 

Louis comes to stand closely in front of Harry, his bare toes almost pressed against the tips of Harry’s boots, and Harry’s arms twitch with the instinct to pull Louis into a hug. Louis’ muscles still look strained beneath his grey t shirt has he stares hard at the floor.

 

“Thank you, Hazza.” Louis whispers softly, glancing to the bed at the twins before finally looking up into Harry’s green eyes. Harry’s body relaxes instinctually, beneath the softness in Louis’ voice.

 

“Thank you for keeping them company…” Louis trails off with his eyes boring into Harry’s, their blue depths communicating a heavier form of gratitude, but there is still hesitance in his eyes.

 

“I need you to go home though.” Louis’ voice is still soft, more of a plea than a frustrated command, and Harry feels the tug of his usual desire to supply Louis with whatever he needs, without question. But as he looks over at his best friend, he picks up the sounds of the argument above them again.

 

Louis must have purposefully left the movie’s volume low enough to go unnoticed by his parents, and as a result the yelling is still audible, muffled down to an angry murmur. Surely the girls will become absorbed enough by the cheerful colors to get some sleep, but Harry feels certain that Louis will stay focused on the argument above. The thought of Louis huddled up with his sisters by himself, lying awake to the sounds of Mark and Jay screaming… it’s sickening. Harry allows himself to reach out and touch his fingertips against the pulse point of Louis’ wrist for a couple of seconds before pulling away.

 

“I think I’ll just stay and watch the movie.” Harry whispers casually. He walks over to the edge of the bed and slides down to the floor before Louis can reply, letting his long legs spread across the dirty clothes littered along the floor, pressing his shoulders against the edge of the mattress behind him. Louis stomps over and sits down at Harry’s side, his fists clenched as he crosses his legs and stares hard at Harry.

 

“Dammit, Harry…” He growls out in a whisper. Harry forces himself to make eye contact with him, and his stomach clenches at the anger he finds glaring through Louis’ eyes.

 

“M’sorry Lou, but I’m not going to leave.” And Harry really does feel sorry. On any given day Harry would rob a bank if Louis asked it of him, but here he is, refusing to give him something as simple as privacy. It must be frustrating for Louis. But there’s nothing that could make him leave Louis to deal with all this stress by himself.

 

“I. Don’t. Want. You. Here, Harry” Louis’ voice is low, punching each word straight into Harry’s chest, but quiet enough for the twins to not hear. Harry darts his eyes away from Louis, his heart pounding at the rejection of Louis’ words, a kind of explicit rejection Louis has never expressed to him before. Harry swallows hard a few times before turning to find Louis’ blue eyes again, ignoring his own hurt feelings and insecurities. Louis’ eyes are full of pain and frustration, and he almost looks… insecure. Harry is struck with the realization that Louis’ insistence for Harry to leave is stemming from shame. He’s worried about what Harry might hear, ashamed of anyone else hearing his parents’ relationship fall apart on the floor above. Harry’s chest fills with words of reassurance he wants to whisper to Louis, but they are words that Louis would surely shrug off. So much of his emotions are channeled into anger right now that none of Harry’s words will make it through to him. Harry swallows his reassurances and opts for a safer route around Louis’ frustration.

 

“How about you grab your IPod and headphones? I’ll turn the music all the way up until the girls fall asleep, and if you still want me to leave once they’re passed out, I will.” Harry watches as Louis’ eyebrows pinch together with frustration, his blue eyes wandering across Harry’s face as if searching for an answer. He looks confused by Harry’s refusal to leave, but he finally blows out a heavy breath and begins crawling back towards the bedside table where he keeps his IPod. He returns moments later and passes the device and headphones over silently, crosses his arms and stares determinedly at the television, raking a hand through his hair. Harry’s stomach sinks at Louis’ clear frustration with him. He pops the earbuds in and navigates to the ‘Haz’ playlist.  He lets an acoustic guitar roll across his worries, leaning his head back on the mattress and taking a measured breath. He swallows hard and squeezes his eyes shut, fighting the urge to glance over at Louis. Harry manages to keep his eyes shut for three full songs, determined to give Louis some tiny sliver of the privacy he requested over and over again. Even with his eyes closed and the music up high to block out any sound, Harry can’t keep his mind from wandering to painful thoughts. Louis has already lost one dad. His biological father left him when he was very young, and Harry can’t stomach the thought of what being abandoned by a second father might do to Louis. Louis doesn’t deserve that kind of pain, and he wonders if Louis’ head is clouded with his own kind of worst-case-scenarios. 

 

Something warm and heavy falls across Harry’s lap and his eyes open to see that Louis had tossed a long blanket over both of them. Harry spares a glance to Louis, moving only his eyes so that Louis can’t catch him looking. He is staring at the television screen resolutely, but his eyes are glazed over, like he isn’t really paying attention to the movie. Harry watches his jaw tighten sharply, his eyes flickering up to the ceiling. Had there been another slammed door? Or maybe the yelling got even louder? What could they possibly be screaming about for so long? Louis’ fingers scrape across the material of his sweats before flinching into fists and Harry looks up at Louis’ eyes to find them clenched shut. His stomach twists in on itself. The pain in Louis’ face is prominent, painted across every feature now that he thinks no one can see him. Harry closes his eyes again and the music blaring in his ears fades down into white noise, his mind now fine-tuned just to focus on Louis. He’s hyper aware of Louis’ body tensed up just inches from him. Without a second thought, Harry reaches out his hand blindly to find Louis’ hand still balled up against his thigh. Harry keeps his eyes carefully closed, breathing with relief when Louis lets him take his hand without a fight. He lays Louis’ hand against his own thigh softly and turns it over to lay palm up. Blindly, Harry trails the tip of his pointer finger down Louis’ middle finger to the end of his palm, stopping just at the edge of his wrist, letting their skin brush against each other just barely. He moves over to Louis’ ring finger, again drawing an imaginary line from his fingertip to his wrist. He hopes the touch is soft enough to be soothing, slow enough to capture Louis’ attention away from whatever he had been squeezing his eyes shut against. Louis’ skin feels soft and warm beneath his fingertip and he takes a calming breath as he traces along Louis’ pinky ever so slowly.

 

The song in Harry ear’s moves on to a ballad, a shivering, melancholy tone, too sorrowful for the circumstances, but there’s no chance of changing the song because he doesn’t dare stop his careful touches against Louis’ skin. He’s afraid Louis might pull away, given the chance. So Harry does his best to ignore the aching melody of the song. Instead he focuses on balancing all four of his fingertips against each of Louis’. With his eyes closed he feels Louis inch his fingertips up to Harry’s, guiding them to touch down correctly, helping them line up with the pads of his fingers. Harry feels a smile flicker across his lips, his stomach twirling at the smallest bit of positive attention from Louis. He thinks, maybe Louis is smiling too.

 

Harry lets his fingertips press against Louis’ for a little while, until Louis slots his fingers between Harry’s, sliding their palms together to hold hands. Louis squeezes his hand once. Harry squeezes back twice, and finally opens his eyes. He looks over to find Louis staring at their joined hands. His jaw is no longer tightened with anxiety but his eyes look tired and blank. Harry pulls out the ear buds and squeezes Louis’ hand again. The room is nearly silent, and there are a thousand things he could say in this moment, but nothing comes out. All of his words of comfort feel lodged in his throat. The argument above them has either finally ended, or it has quieted down enough to be covered by the sound of the children’s film. Harry glances over his shoulder to find Daisy and Phoebe fast asleep.

 

“The girls are asleep,” Harry whispers. He holds tightly to Louis’ hands and forces out the rest of the sentence. “I can leave if you want.”

 

At Harry’s quiet offering Louis’ eyes snap up to find Harry’s. Louis looks at him silently for a couple of tense minuets, his sharp cheekbones and full bottom lip are highlighted, where the TV glows against his profile. He looks beautiful and exhausted, and Harry finds that he’s willing to crawl out of Louis’ window at the snap of his fingers, if that’s what he needs for a full night’s sleep.

 

Instead of replying Louis let’s go of Harry’s hand and stands up. Harry’s heart pounds rapidly against his eardrums as he readies himself for another round of Louis’ misplaced frustration, but Louis remains silent and walks over to his mess of a closet. He stands on his tiptoes to pull out two spare pillows. Mounds of rumpled winter coats and spare sheets cascade around him as he pulls out a soft yellow comforter as well before carrying it all back towards harry. He drops the pile of bedding at the edge of Harry’s feet and reaches both hands out to him. Harry’s heart is still pounding in his ears as he takes the offered hands and stands up, rising just a hair taller than Louis. His nerves feel frayed and raw, and his mind is racing to find the right way to approach Louis while he’s in this quiet, closed off state.

 

“We should let the girls stay there for the night.” Louis’ tinkling, raspy whisper soothes Harry’s nerves immediately, if just slightly. Louis is making decisions and taking action, it’s the power balance Harry is used to, so he steps to the side to lets Louis kick his dirty clothes to edges of the room, before forming a makeshift bed on the ground. Harry moves over to the twins and pulls the blankets around them tighter. His head is buzzing with the silence of the room and his ears strain to catch any muffled talking from the floor above, but the entire house seems quiet now. The room around him darkens as Louis shuts off the TV. Moonlight spills into the room in a pale puddle beneath the bedroom window, and Louis is nothing more than a silhouette as he drops down onto the floor and crawls under the covers.

 

“You gonna join me, or what?” Louis does his best to sound playful, but it’s a sorry imitation of his usual lilting tone. Harry walks over to the pile of blankets and slips under a long, thin quilt, his back sinks down into the fluffy comforter in place of a mattress. He turns onto his side to find Louis in a mirror position, already facing him. He’s lying so closely their noses almost touch. In the moonlight Harry can see a sadness pulling at the edges of Louis’ mouth, stress seeming to strain against the skin beneath his eyes, and his eyebrows are pulled in just slightly, like he’s distracted, worried.

 

Sometimes there are nights when Harry feels so separate from his childhood self; loud and free and in control; but tonight is not one of those nights. Tonight Harry feels young and inexperienced. Looking over at Louis’ muted form, Louis, who is usually so bright and unrestrained and unafraid, looking at him in this watered down exhaustion, Harry feels in over his head. He feels completely helpless.

 

Harry reaches out a hand slowly, pressing his fingers against the crinkles between Louis’ eyebrows and watching as they smooth out beneath his caress. Some of the worry leaks out of Louis’ facial features and Harry feels the tightness in his chest ease up a tiny bit.

 

“Do you wanna talk about it, Lou?” Harry whispers into the inches between them. He can’t figure out why his throat is still so tight. He can’t figure out why this had felt like so much more than your average family argument. Harry moves his fingers into Louis’ hair and down to the back of his neck, watching Louis swallow.

 

“…was just a fight.” Louis finally answers with a shrug, but Harry hears it for the lie that it is. Louis is worried.

 

“Let’s get some sleep. We’ll talk more tomorrow.” Harry gives Louis the out that he knows he wants. Louis nods and nibbles on his lower lip, but he doesn’t close his eyes to sleep. He keeps them trained on Harry for a long silent minuet. Harry squeezes the back of Louis’ neck softly, his stomach knotted as he waits for Louis to either speak, or sleep. Finally Louis blinks away from Harry’s green eyes and then shuffles forward, crawling down into Harry’s space and curling up against his chest, front to front. Harry takes a deep, uneven breath and wraps his arms tight around his best friend, feeling him tuck himself under Harry’s chin and wrap his strong arms around Harry’s waist. Harry swallows down against another emotional knot, feeling unexpected sadness wash over him at Louis’ display of vulnerability.

 

“ ‘s alright, Louis.” Harry whispers into the crown of Louis’ head before forcing his eyes shut. Louis’ body presses more firmly against Harry’s and his eyelashes flutter against the skin of his collarbone. Louis presses his fingers deep into the muscles of Harry’s back and takes a shuddered breath.

 

“Mark left. While you had the music on.” Louis whispers into Harry’s skin, and Harry feels his stomach fall to his toes. He feels suddenly sick from Louis’ quiet confession. Harry holds his breath, he know he’s gone rigid from shock and he should collect himself quickly, should say or do something comforting, but his body refuses to cooperate, because Louis and heard Mark walk out on his mom. He had heard Mark walk out on him and his sisters. A wave of nausea claws up Harry’s throat.

 

“He’ll be back tomorrow, after he’s cooled off.” Louis whispers the words like he knows them to be true, like he’s offering comfort to Harry, and the reversal of roles is almost enough to pull tears from Harry’s eyes. It should be the other way around, Harry should be speaking words of reassurance to Louis. Instead he nods his head in agreement, knowing that any words he whispers will only fall short. Harry is overwhelmed with a wave of inadequacy, there’s nothing he can say or do to fix this. There is no way to make this better for Louis. So Harry closes his eyes and wills the panic out of his lungs. He forces each strained muscle to relax into Louis, and he focuses his breaths into a soft even rhythm, refusing to give Louis one more person to take care of.

 

“I love you, Lou.” Harry whispers.

 

“I love you too, Haz.” Louis croaks back. He presses his knee between Harry’s thighs and curls in tighter to fall asleep.

 

When Harry finally falls asleep he has a very vivid dream, a dream that is really more like memory. He dreams of the first time he had snuck into Louis’ bedroom window. He’s nine years old, and it’s his fourth time spending the night at Louis’ house. His own house is only just across the street, but he’s at an age where it still feels like an adventure to be away from home all night long. Harry likes Louis’ house, the layout is very similar to that of his own, but Louis’ mom allows them to eat in his bed and stay up as long as they want on the weekends, which makes Harry feel quite grown up.

 

Usually Harry falls asleep easily in Louis’ bed. His blankets are always fluffy and warm, and always smell of oranges, but tonight Harry lays wide awake while Louis snores softly on the other side of the bed. A lightning storm had woken Harry up, and he’s afraid. He hates storms, and the storm that had awoken him is a particularly nasty one. Heavy rain lashes against the glass pane of Louis’ bedroom window, and sudden gusts of wind howl through the neighborhood trees. Harry jolts at the sound of booming thunder, feeling it rumble through the house and through his chest. It feels like the thunderstorm is right on top of them and he wonders if it’s possible for lightning to strike a house. What will happen if it does? Another crack of thunder and a flash of lightning crackle over the house, rattling the glass of the window. Harry crawls over to Louis and shakes him awake.

 

“Lou, Lou wake up!” Louis pushes Harry’s hands away and burrows down into the covers.

 

The wind picks up outside, howling a high pitched moan that clenches Harry’s tummy tight with fear. Harry huddles up close to Louis and shakes him again.

 

“Louis, cuddle me. I’m scared.” Harry whines out. He’s close to tears because it’s his first time without the protection of his mom or older sister during a big storm, but Louis is quite brave, he knows. Louis speaks loud and jumps high, and hardly ever shuts his eyes during scary movies.

 

“Louis, cuddle me!” Harry repeats. He picks up one of Louis’ sleep-heavy arms and pulls it over to lay across his own body. Finally Louis begins to stir.

 

“Hazza what are you doing? Scoot over, I don’t have any room.” Louis grumbles. A long jittery roll of thunder seems to pound against the roof of the house and Louis’ eyes finally open.

 

“Louis! I hate storms, you have to cuddle me!” Harry curls his body up tight against Louis’, but Louis pulls his arms away.

 

“Harry we are too old for cuddles! I’m gonna be ten soon and a silly storm isn’t gonna scare me.” Louis’ high voice speaks out defiantly against the storm raging outside.

 

“But it’s a super strong storm, what if a tornado comes? I saw one on TV last week. They come from really strong winds like the ones outside right now!” Harry’s lower lip trembles, his imagination picturing the winds swirling around into a cyclone that could rip apart a house.

 

“Harry don’t start crying, it’s too late for crying. You need to be brave like me! My house will hold up against the storm.” Louis’ eyebrows scrunch in, like he’s frustrated with Harry’s emotional state. Outside lightning slaps against the sky three times, one after the other and Harry’s eyes well up.

 

“Please, Louis? I don’t care if you think I’m not brave, just cuddle me so I’m safe from the storm.” Harry pleads. Louis’ slight body scampers off of the bed and he stands with his hands on his hips to glare at harry, barely flinching when thunder rolls outside.

 

“Well, I’ll not be friends with a baby, Harry. You need to dry up those tears or go home. I’m getting too old to be friends with a crier.” Louis’ words are sassy and harsh, and Harry feels a slap of shame sting against his eyes. He flinches violently at another strike of lightning. Suddenly Harry doesn’t want to be here anymore. Louis doesn’t like him, and isn’t gonna take care of him, and sitting by himself beneath this massive storm will surely send him into sobs. He just wants to go home now.

 

“Fine!” Harry spits, his lip trembling. He doesn’t want to wake up Jay or Mark. He doesn’t want anyone else to call him a baby. So Harry does the only thing he can think of. He crawls off of the bed and yanks open Louis’ bedroom window. Maybe he can prove to Louis that he is brave, and get back home all in one go.

 

“What are you doing?” Louis shouts. Before Louis can make his way around the bed to stop him, Harry swings a bare foot over the window ledge. He pulls his body over and out, dropping down into the pouring rain.

 

“Harry, don’t!” and for once, Louis’ voice sounds scared, but Harry doesn’t want to look back.

 

Within seconds he is already soaked. The rain is cold and heavy enough to sting his skin. He feels glued to the ground, practically drowning in the down pour, but he forces himself to move. He runs hard, heart pounding and chest heaving as his feet slip across the muddy ground. Wind whips against the skin of his face and thunder tremors through the ground beneath his bare feet, but he’s too shocked at his own actions to pay attention to any of that. Harry runs through mud and flooded grass, darts across the hard asphalt road, until finally through the dark sheet of rain Harry can make out the square of his own bedroom window. He runs towards it as fast as he can. His arms and legs are shaking when he finally comes to a stop, his eyes burning against the wind and rain. The window is shut tight and there is no lip to grab ahold of from the outside, so he presses his small hands to the glass and tries to force it up. The wind surges to a howl, throwing rain against his body at a harsh angle, and he begins to panic as his window refuses to budge. But suddenly another small pair of hands is pressing against the window with him, leaning in and pushing hard. Louis is next to him, drenched and shivering. The window finally lurches up and Harry hurries to open it wide enough to slip into. He is barely tall enough to lean his arms and chest in, so he jumps and spreads his arms out wide, pushing against the wall on either side of the window inside of his room, and then Louis is pushing at him from outside. Harry teeters forward and falls into his dark room. His knee and elbow hit hard against the carpet, but he gets up on his feet and grabs Louis under his arms, pulling hard to get him up and over the window seal, and then they both collapse onto the dry floor in a mess of skinny limbs.

 

Harry squirms out from under Louis and lays out flat on his back. His chest is heaving and his body is shaking from the cold. The window is still wide open and the storm is spilling into the room. Harry looks over at Louis and glares. Louis’ pixie features glare back as both boys remain silent. Louis’ eyes are shock of blue, his small feet are caked in mud and his thin shoulders are shivering. Harry sits up and pulls his soaked shirt off over his head. His body begins to tremor with how cold he is, his muscles feeling achy and useless and exhausted. He bites down on his trembling lip so that Louis won’t see it and swipes his wet shirt across his feet, cleaning off as much mud from the bottom of them as he can. Once his feet are clean enough to walk on he gets up on shaky legs and rushes to the bathroom that’s connected to his room. He pulls out two clean towels with the light still off. He’s afraid to wake his mother, she’ll be mad if she finds him like this, so Harry walks back to Louis as quietly as he can. Louis had shut the bedroom window, and he stands alone in the darkness of the room. Harry is freezing, and the storm still sounds scary outside, but all he can think about is how violently Louis’ body is shaking. Harry walks over to him quickly. The room is silent and Louis’ jagged breaths are loud in Harry’s ears. He drops his own towel on the floor and with the second towel he reaches out to start wiping the rain away from Louis eyes and neck.

 

“Why did you follow me, Louis? You shouldn’t have done that, you’re going to catch a cold now.” Harry whispers as low as he can through his chattering teeth. He moves the towel up to Louis’ dripping hair and rubs it around softly.

 

“You’re my best friend. I wasn’t gonna let you go out into the storm by yourself.” Louis replies as if it’s the most obvious answer in the world. Harrys lays the towel across Louis’ shoulders and wraps it around him like a blanket.

 

“I’m your best friend?” Harry asks softly, looking up at Louis.

 

“Yeah.”

 

“I want you to be mine too. But if you’re going to be my best friend you’re going to have to be able to give me cuddles. I’ll never be as brave as you…” Harry whispers the last part down to the ground.

 

“You’re already as brave as me, Hazza. You just ran outside in the middle of a massive thunderstorm!” Louis answers boldly, clearly impressed. Louis takes the damp towel off of his shoulders and wraps it around Harry’s bare ones.

 

“But I promise to never refuse you cuddles again.” Louis whispers with bright eyes.

 

“Yeah?” Harry says in a hopeful voice. Louis shines a smile at him and holds his pinky up between the two of them.

 

“Yep.” Louis answers with a nod. Harry holds up his own pinky and folds it into Louis’, thus binding the promise for all of eternity.

 

“It sucks that I have to go back out into that storm, though. My mom is gonna freak out if she wakes up and we’re both missing!” Louis glances out the window, his body still shivering and soaked.

 

“I’ll go with you.” Harry offers. He reaches down and pulls his wet, muddy shirt back on.

 

“Yeah? That’s probably a good idea, my mom said she was making chocolate chip pancakes in the morning.” Louis whispers with glee.

 

“I love chocolate chip pancakes!” Harry whispers as he moves around Louis and yanks the window back open.

 

So Harry runs out into the storm and back across the street with Louis, with rain and wind knocking against them and soaking into their bones. And then Harry crawls into Louis’ window for the very first time, with a little help from Louis himself. Harry and Louis undress in the dark and dry themselves off with warm towels. They drop their wet clothes out the window so that the grown-ups won’t find them; and feel very clever for it.

 

Louis gives Harry dry PJs and then they both slide into bed with giddy giggles and exhausted muscles. Harry feels like he’s managed a great escape and a daring break-in, all in one night. Just like a super hero. He cuddles down into the blankets and lets his eyes fall closed, with damp hair and wrinkly fingers.

 

“Harry?” Louis whispers into the dark.

 

“Yea Lou?” Harry answers. Louis slides his hand into Harry’s and pulls gently.

 

“Come over here so I can cuddle you.” Louis whispers. A smile lights up Harry’s features. He scoots over to Louis and feels his thin arms wrap around him. Harry lets his green eyes beam up at Louis before fluttering closed. In Louis’ arms he’s warm and cozy, and already slipping into sleep before his smile can fade. The last thing he feels is Louis’ finger poking into the divot of his dimple, making him smile once more before drifting off.

 

A soft tap against Harry’s cheek pulls him out of his dream and towards consciousness. A bright light presses against his eyes and another tap is pressed against his jaw. His fingers twitch and he shakes his head side to side softly in a groggy attempt to brush away the soft touches and slip back into sleep. A familiar chuckle tugs him up towards consciousness again and a more insistent poke pushes into the smooth skin where Harry’s dimple would grove in if he were to smile.

“You are so psychic.” Harry’s sleepy words come out broken and raspy and he smiles with his eyes still shut. Louis pokes his cheek again.

“You say that every other day.” Louis replies in a warm, clear voice. There’s no trace of sleep in his voice and Harry wonders how long he’s been awake.

“I swear to god, you are.” Harry insists.

“Why? Were you dreaming of me poking you?” Louis sounds delighted at the prospect, and the promise of Louis’ crinkly smile in his voice is almost enough to pry Harry’s eyes open against the dull morning light.

“Yea.” Harry admits. The single word is slow and scratchy as he dimples through another smile.

“Shut up, you liar!” Louis exclaims. His voice is thick and bright and he’s definitely grinning now so Harry finally flutters his eyes open to look over at him. It’s a strange shock to the system to find seventeen-year-old Louis laying beside him instead of nine-year-old Louis. All of his young rounded features are chiseled down into sharp cheek bones and a sharp jawline, but his puffy morning eyes are still the same crystal blue as ever.

“What, I’m serious.” Harry says as he’s released from the last wispy edges of his dream.

“Poking, huh? It was a dirty dream wasn’t it?” Louis eyes are dancing with mirth in the slanted morning light and Harry groans, deep and exaggerated. It’s too early for sex jokes, so Harry reaches out to slap Louis’ arm and then rolls over to hide under his pillow where it’s dark and cool, welcoming Harry further into a sleepy state. Harry’s barely laid his head against the comforter beneath him when he feels Louis climb up onto his back. Harry grunts as Louis drops his chest and stomach against Harry’s lower back and bum, draping himself along Harry’s lower half and resting his sharp chin between Harry’s shoulder blades.

“You remember the first time I tried to cuddle with you?” Harry asks. His voice is muffled by the pillow he’s burrowed beneath, and he feels loose and drowsy beneath the warmth of Louis’ body weight.

“Oh, you mean when your dramatic ass ran out into a hurricane to guilt-trip me into loving you?”

“NO. I mean when your cheesy ass followed me out into a rainstorm and pinky promised to love me forever.” Harry corrects with a grin, and Louis lets out a loud, full volume laugh, his body bouncing atop Harry’s with the force of it. Harry slips into laughter at the feel of it, smiling lazy and happy in his little pillow cave.

“Were you dreaming of that night? Back when I was too cool for a cuddle?”

“yep. And now look at you; you demand a cuddle from me every other hour, on the hour.” Harry teases before pulling the pillow off of his head and tossing it aside.

“I do not. You’re just being dramatic again.” Louis wiggles a little, readjusting his weight against Harry’s back and laying his soft cheek against his spine.

“Really, Lou? Out of the two of us, I’m the dramatic one?” Harry rolls his body to the side to dump Louis off of him, but Louis’ hands cling to his torso and he sticks a foot out to tip Harry back onto his stomach. Harry settles back down against the ground with a grin as he imagines Louis’ smug smile of victory.

“Your dream still doesn’t make me psychic.”

“You were poking my cheek in the dream and then you woke me up by poking my cheek.”

“Nope. Not psychic.” Louis argues.

“You’re in denial. I’ll be staging an intervention with the boys tomorrow.”

“Interventions are supposed to be like, stealthy. Like a sneak attack.” Louis corrects, continuing the argument easily because it’s what he’s best at.

“yea, but we both know I’m shit at keeping secrets from you.”

“Complete shit.” Louis agrees with a laugh. The low rumble of an engine sounds from outside of Louis’ window, where it idles for a few seconds before cutting out. Harry and Louis both freeze and the memories of Mark leaving last night come crashing back into Harry like a tidal wave.

“Shit.” Louis scrambles up off of Harry and he slinks over to the window, ducking down low to keep his head out of sight. It’s dramatic and a little unnecessary but Harry follows his lead, sneaking over to the window and peeking out to see the edges of Marks car in the drive way, barely visible from where Louis’ bedroom window is positioned along the side of the house. Harry notices for the first time how soft and low the morning sun light is, skimming along the blades of grass in Louis’ yard and lighting them up at the tips.

“What time is it?” Harry murmurs. Louis glances back at his bedside clock before answering.

“5:52”, Louis answers.

“Why the hell were you awake so early?” Harry asks in astonishment, but the sound of the front door clicking open softly interrupts whatever answer Louis could have given, because he reaches out and pulls his window open quietly.

“Out.” He hisses, shoving at Harry’s shoulders.

“What? Are you serious?” Harry asks with wide eyes. Louis shuffles across the room and collects Harry’s boots, shoving them into Harry’s arms and pushing him towards the open window again.

“Lou no one in the house will be awake for the next two hours, you don’t have to toss me out of your window.” Harry whispers with annoyance, but he bounces up and down on one foot to slip a boot on none the less. Louis rakes his fingers through his messy hair and glances at his bed where his sisters lay sleeping. His blue eyes flicker back up to Harry, softening down into an apology in seconds.

“Do you forgive me?” Louis blurts out in the quietest of whispers. Harry slips his second boot on and stands upright to meet Louis’ gaze.

“What do you mean?” Harry moves to stand at the open window, still feeling some of the frantic rush Louis had spun himself into over the last few minutes. The creak of footsteps against the staircase outside of Louis’ bedroom door make them both freeze, and Harry holds his breath until they fade away, moving up towards the floor above.

“For last night. Do you forgive me for last night?” Louis whispers once they’re sure Mark has made it to the top of the stairs and out of earshot. Harry is ready to give his forgiveness in a heartbeat but Louis rushes on before he can speak.

“I was really… moody with you. Was being cranky and mean to you…” Louis looks down at his boots, and although none of that was an actually apology, its written clear across his body, shoulders hunched in and fingers twisting at themselves in regret.

Harry moves forward one step and wraps his arms around Louis’ tense shoulders.

“You think I’d hold any of that against you?” Harry murmurs with a small smile against Louis’ hair as they hug. “I know you were just having a bad night.” Harry assures him. Louis squeezes softly at Harry’s waist and then pulls out of the hug, clearing his throat and flicking his fringe to the side.

“Thanks, Haz.” Louis whispers softly. “Out you get then, you already survived World War One with me, no need to sit through number two.” Louis takes a step back and motions towards the window at Harry. He looks uneasy, and Harry can’t decide if it was the apology or the prospect of another oncoming argument that has him chewing on his nails uncomfortably. Harry wants to soothe it all away for him, slow down his nervous jumpy muscles and soften down his clenched jaw, so he does what Louis asked him to do and slips out of the window and into the cool morning air. Before he leaves he leans his body back into Louis’ window.

“You know I would right? I’d sit through a hundred World Wars with you.” Harry promises genuinely, smiling softly at his best friend with the golden morning light glinting off of his eyelashes. Louis’ shoulders relax fractionally and he flashes the smallest of smiles at Harry.

“Alright, get that charm across the street before you melt my frigid heart.”

“Love you Lou.” Harry murmurs with a smirk.

“Love you too, Hazza.”


	2. Mudslide

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter lays some groundwork for Harry and Louis' friendship under more carefree circumstances, and taps into that teenage summer-freedom feel that inspired this fic to begin with :) Some ot5, Some Larry, and Some smoking. Enjoy!

A stomp and a crash echo through Louis’ darkened house, and Harry’s heart races and his muscles freeze. He has been sneaking in and out of Louis’ house for years, and although Jay has never mentioned it and never seemed to mind, the thought of being caught in the act still scares him.

“Fuck.” He whispers, his ears straining to catch the noise of anyone waking, but the house remains still and silent. And, thankfully there is no sign of Louis’ parents arguing tonight. There are warm hands on Harry’s hips and hot breath against his back as Louis stifles his laughter in the soft skin between Harry’s shoulder blades.

“Shut up, that really hurt.” Harry rubs at his hip and side steps away from the object he’d just struck it against.

“That end table has been here for a month and you bump into it every time you get up from the couch.” Louis’ words are barely decipherable beneath his smothered laughter.

“Well maybe if you wouldn’t have fallen asleep in the living room…” Harry murmurs accusingly as he begins leading Louis towards the back of the house.

“Then what? You wouldn’t be a clumsy baby giraffe?”

“Heeeey.” Harry pouts his lips, even though its pitch black and Louis can’t see more than the back of his head.

“What, it’s a compliment. Clumsy baby giraffes are my favorite animal.”

“Don’t manipulate me with your pretty lies, that was an insult.”

“No it wasn’t. It was an endearment.” Louis’ voice is somehow soothing and cheeky all at once

“That was a terrible term of endearment.”

“Then which animal endearment would you prefer? Little bird? Honey bear?… Sex kitten?” Harry’s steps halt as a bright burst of laughter tumbles out of him, and he clamps his hands over his mouth as Louis bumps into him from behind.

“Shush, you.” Louis giggles. His hands push Harry through the open bedroom door they’ve finally reached and Harry plops down onto Louis’ bed with a wide grin.

“Sex kitten. I want to be referred to as sex kitten from here on out.”

“Of course you do.” Louis rolls his eyes with a fond smile and shuffles around to find some clean clothes, not even bothering to turn on a light.

“I’ll be sex kitten and you can be… cuddle bunny.” Harry says with a soft huff of laughter. Louis’s shadowed body moves smooth and gracefully as he begins to strip off his pajamas and redress.

“Oi, absolutely not! Why don’t I get a sexy animal endearment?” Louis scoffs, and Harry giggles, pleased by Louis’ predictable outrage.

“Should have snatched up sex kitten while it was available huh? But you know, I think we’re only allotted one animal nickname each and you already have one…” Harry lies back against the bed and smiles smugly up at the ceiling.

“Don’t even say it, Harold.” Louis chucks a balled up sock at Harry and it hits him square in the mouth. He brushes it aside, undeterred.

“You already have boo bear!” Harry singsongs in a sugary voice, and Louis launches himself at the bed before he’s even got the words out. Harry laughs high and sharp as Louis’ body lands against him, his finger’s digging into Harry’s ribs to tickle without warning.

“That secret goes to your grave, Harry!”

“I know, I know! I haven’t told a soul!” Harry shouts, loud and unrestrained beneath Louis’ torturing fingers. Harry flails around to escape Louis’ prodding tickles but Louis straddles him easily and only stops tickling him to grab Harry’s wrists and pin them down against his own chest.

“To the grave, swear it.” Louis commands, and there is a glimmering smile hidden behind his glaring eyes and mouth.

“I’ll take it to the grave, I swear.” Harry promises, lowering his voice as he remembers it’s nearly midnight. Louis glares down at him sternly for a few silent seconds before his smile finally breaks through.

“Using my own family secrets against me, you’re quite the troublemaker aren’t you, sex kitten?” Louis sounds pleased, and the nickname Harry had expected to sound ridiculous rolls off of his tongue easily, sounding sweet and sensual with Louis’ raspy voice curled around it. Harry blushes softly in the darkened room, but refuses to fall victim to the friendly flirtation.

“I learned from the best, didn’t I? Cuddle bunny.” Louis smile drops comically and he groans in exasperation, falling to the side and relinquishing his hold on Harry. Harry rolls out from under Louis and jumps up off of the bed with a victorious smirk.

“I win. Now come on, the boys are waiting on us.”

“You do not win. I win, I pinned you.”

“No, you almost pinned me, but in the final seconds I delivered the knock-out blow with ‘cuddle bunny’ and you slumped over to the side, releasing your pin on me.” Harry corrects Louis as he walks over to the window he had left open when he came looking for Louis just ten minutes ago.

“No the knock-out punch was when I got you to swear to keep my secret til death.” Louis insists, joining Harry at the window with his hands on his hips and a raised eyebrow.

“I was just distracting you, the round wasn’t over yet!”

“…Whatever. We’re calling it a draw.” Louis slaps his hands against Harry’s chest to finalize the decision, like a judge with his gavel, and then he ducks under the window and slips out into the night. Harry slips out after him silently, knowing the fact that Louis’ didn’t fight harder to be declared the winner was actually a win in itself.

The air is thick and muggy as they cross Louis’ lawn. Low-hanging storm clouds blanket the entire night sky, keeping the summer heat of the day trapped against the earth.

“So what is it we’re doing? I didn’t even ask did I? Haven’t checked my phone all night either.” Louis says as he waits for Harry to catch up to him. His white scoop neck shirt sits crooked across his collarbones, dipping down to reveal the entirety of his left shoulder as he bends over to roll up the ankles of his dark blue skinny jeans.

“Zayn got back today, remember? He wants to smoke behind the school.”

“Nice, we haven’t smoked since he left. How have we survived so long without him!?”

It’s a ten minute walk from Louis’ house to the edge of their suburban neighborhood, where an elementary school and a corner store sit at opposing corners of the street like the guardians of suburbia. Beyond that is a park and a few family-owned diners and miles of flat farmland that lead into the busy city where Harry and his friends attend school. Harry and Louis walk through the warm night shoulder to shoulder, bumping against each other and making bets on whether Zayn will act laid back and smoldering, or giggly and hyper. Harry bets against the odds and goes with giggly. Zayn is the most chill person Harry’s ever met, but he’s been gone for three weeks and Harry knows he has a way with pulling him out of his mellow demeanor.

Harry and Louis reach the edge of the field at the back of the school and a low murmur of far off voices trickles into their conversation. Harry pauses halfway through a word and stares at Louis’ blue eyes, wondering if it had been his imagination or not. They both stand still at the edge of the field and wait for another rumble of conversation to reach them. When the unmistakable lilt of Niall’s Irish words reaches across the dark expanse of land Louis raises his eyebrows at Harry and cups his hands around his mouth before shouting out into the field.

“Oi Oii!” A few seconds pass by before three shadowy forms come into view across the field.

“Louehh! Harrehh!!” Zayn’s smooth voice sends a wave of nostalgia through Harry and he grins widely at Louis before bolting forward towards the approaching figures.

The heavy summer air whips across Harry’s ears and he darts towards Zayn’s skinny form and when he’s finally close enough to make out all of Zayn’s features he see him spread his arms and bend his knees to prepare for impact. Zayn is wearing a gentle smirk that breaks open into a grin when Harry launches himself into his arms. He catches Harry with ringing laughter and folds backwards to let them fall against the grass. Harry lays heavily across Zayn’s body, hugging him feircly and grinning at the sound of Zayn’s shimmering laugh. Louis is Harry’s best friend, but Zayn is has been his friend the longest, and the air around him feels a little bit more like home now that Zayn is back in the same area code again. Harry smacks a wet kiss against Zayn’s cheek and sits up straddling his thighs.

Warm amber eyes glimmer up at Harry as Zayn’s gaze travels across all of his features before linking with his green eyes. Harry feels light and airy as Zayn smirks at him at lays soft hands on each of Harry’s hips.

“How is it that you’ve gotten prettier while I was away H?” Zayn says, soft and affectionate, and a joyous giggle bubbles up out of harry.

Zayn’s modelesque features stretch beautifully into a grin as he sits up to embrace Harry warmly. Zayn has always given Harry special treatment, has always verbalized adoration that’s only the slightest bit cheeky, has always hinted at an attraction that felt honest but somehow still light hearted. Harry likes it if he’s being truthful, he likes that Zayn treats him a bit more softly that he treats anyone else.

“I missed you Zayn.” Harry mumurs to him, only realizing in this moment just how true it is. Zayn has always been a close second to Louis, both boys have a way of making Harry feel special and loved.

Harry pushes up onto his feet and Zayn stands up in front of him with his eyes still shining as they travel the length of Harry’s body.

“Your legs have gotten so long! And look at your curls.” Zayn’s fingers reach out to brush against the hair just beneath Harry’s ear and Harry keens under the attention, his heart full and light now that all of his friends are in one place again.

“I’m having a sexual-identity crisis just looking at you!” Zayn jokes with a tug at Harry’s curls.

“Well, I’m yours for the taking, Zaynie.” Harry teases, popping his hip to the side. Zayn laughs easily and pulls Harry into another hug.

“Oi! First night back in town and your already taking my boy from me, eh?” Louis’ sassy tone breaks through the gentle moment. Harry and Zayn both pull apart laughing at his indignant tone.

“Hey a guy can try, can’t he?” Zayn tosses an arm around Harry’s shoulders and winks him.

“Well I’m not sure how fair of a match it is, with that ass of his.” Harry muses in mock seriousness before looking over at Louis, who’s standing just a few yards away with his arms crossed, failing to control a smile.

“Oh, he does have an outstanding bum, and it’s been awhile since I’ve seen it. Give us a twirl then, Lou!” Zayn joins Harry’s teasing.

“Alright, alright. Enough with the sweet talk, get here and hug me.” Louis demands in a purposefully bored tone. Zayn grins and squeezes Harry’s shoulders one final time before walking over to Louis, accommodating him without question even though Zayn is the one that should be receiving a greeting, not the other way around. Louis is spoiled by all, it can’t be helped. Harry lets them have a moment and walks further across the field towards Niall and Liam.

“Hey Liam, Ni.” Harry greets them both with an easy smile.

“What’s up, Hazza.” Niall answers before both boys tilt their heads back to observe the sky.

“I think it’s gonna rain on us.” Liam says, sounding a little worried.

“Maybe we should smoke over by the gym, the roof extends out far enough to cover us.” Harry suggests. He tilts his head back to find the threat of dark clouds still hanging low in sky. The pounding of footsteps catches Harry’s attention as Louis and Zayn run towards them and Harry braces for impact just as Louis’ hand smacks sharp against his bum. Harry growls with a surge of pain as the boys around him all crack up with hoots and laughter.

“OH. Fuck. That was a good one.” Harry admits through a wince. His skin is stinging and warm beneath his tight jeans and Louis laughs wildly before coming up to wrap his arms around Harry’s middle. His eyes are bright and his grin is gleaming.

“I gotcha good didn’t I?” Louis announces, looking victorious. Harry reaches back with one hand and massages the sore skin of his backside. He holds Louis to his body with the other, keeping them attached front to front as he begins guiding Louis in walking backwards towards the gym building.

“Fuck me, that one really hurt.” Harry hisses down to Louis, still wincing. Louis giggles up at him with mischievous eyes, but his fingers are moving up and down Harry’s back like a soft apology.

“Want me to kiss it better?” Louis offers crudely before biting sharply at Harry’s chin. Harry stumbles on his own feet as a shocked, barked laugh tumbles out of him.

“Christ you guys are so strange.” Niall says sounding both appalled and fond.

“If you’re going to shag then get on with it, yeah?” Zayn’s smooth voice suggests and Harry feels a blush heat his cheeks even as he laughs in response.

“Did you hear that Hazza? I think I’ve just won your hand in marriage, Zaynie admits defeat.” Louis teases in a pleased voice.

“I will never admit defeat Lou.” Zayn counters easily.

Louis opens his mouth to argue but Harry digs his fingers into Louis’ side, tickling him to end the pretend rivalry. In retaliation Louis lets his full body go purposefully limp and Harry has to stop his tickling, holding him tight to keep him upright on instinct. Harry’s long legs stumble beneath Louis’ dead weight and he sways forward dangerously before Louis finally rights himself, planting his feet and rewrapping his arms around Harry’s waist to catch their near fall.

“Shit, almost let us fall Haz.” Louis’ accuses with an affronted expression.

“Where is your faith?! I had you, I was just getting my balance back.” Harry insists with a grin as they continue to make their way to the gym.

“Harry, those big feet of yours were just one step away from toppling the two of you over.” Liam chimes in.

“Um, excuse you Liam… but I was the one who went limp, so I would have been the one to topple us over, not Hazza.” Louis corrects him firmly. Somehow defending Harry from Liam’s playful banter has become one of Louis’ favorite past times. Luckily Liam always takes it with grace.

“Ok Louis, whatever you say.” Liam says with a fond shake of his head.

“Here we are lads, time to smoke up.” Niall announces giddily. They’ve finally reached the asphalt of the school and the five of them make their way over to the gym quickly. A soft, almost gentle shiver of thunder rolls across the sky above them. Louis untangles himself from Harry’s arms but gives his hand a quick squeeze at the soft rumble. Harry knows that Louis’ mind always goes back to their first storm together when he hears thunder, just as Harry’s does.

Laughter and teasing words bounce off of the school’s concrete buildings as they come to a stop at the gymnasium. The layout of the surrounding buildings creates a bit of a tunnel effect for any loud noise, resulting in thin echoes that lap over each other and expand slowly in the heavy summer air. Harry sits down on the concrete beneath the small awning and Louis plops down onto Harry’s crossed legs

“So Zayn, did you get the good stuff from your cousin?” Louis asks with an excited shimmy of his shoulders. Harry leans back as Zayn answers a ‘yes’, letting his shoulders press against the wall of the gym. As the rest of the boys begin to bicker over who gets the first hit, Zayn pulls out a baggy of weed and a crimson colored pipe.

“It’s common courtesy to give the supplier the first hit.” Zayn says, running a hand through his ebony hair.

“No, its common courtesy to give Tommo the first hit.” Louis insists, and Harry giggles before pinching his ribs softly for his cheekiness, earning a little jump and a yelp from Louis.

“But if you don’t agree with that how about this,” Louis continues, brushing Harry’s hands away from his sensitive sides. “I’m the oldest, so I get first dibs.”

“Oh yea? Well I’m the prettiest.” Zayn quips back.

“No, Harry is the prettiest.” Niall cuts in with his Irish accent. Harry smiles over at him, pleased, flashing his dimples as lightning streaks across the sky. Niall reaches over to ruffle Harry’s curls and an easy blanket of contentment wraps around him. He feels floaty and happy even without the weed. It feels good to be surrounded by his favorite people, hiding out behind the school with Louis in his lap, listening to their echoes spread out into the night.

“What was that Neil? Why is everyone moving in on my boy tonight?” Louis exclaims, playful and indignant.

“Calling eternal dibs on Harry when you’re eleven years old does not make it a real thing. Pretty Harry is for all of us!” Liam shouts dramatically with a grin.

Even though they are teasing and being ridiculous, their pretend possessiveness still makes Harry feel special, and a happy cackle jumps up out of his throat without restraint.

“No he’s not! He’s mine!” Louis shouts back even more extravagantly. Harry sits upright and wraps his arms around Louis’ middle, giving him a squeeze.

“Will someone just light it up already?!” Harry says with a giggle. Louis snatches the pipe and from where Zayn has just finished loading it, and looks over his shoulder at Harry.

“You want the first hit, pretty?”

“Nah. You take it. You’re the prettiest.” Harry says. Louis turns back around with a happy wiggle of his hips and lifts up the pipe and lighter.

“Dammit H, I thought we had a good thing going?” Zayn teases, his golden eyes are shining with mirth, and Harry beams a smile at him.

“I told you, there’s just no competing with that bum.” An aborted cough sounds from Louis at those words, and Harry feels Louis’ stomach clench in his arms he struggles to keep the smoke down in his lungs a bit longer.

A gentle roll of thunder shivers across the sky and Louis tilts his head back against Harry’s shoulder, closing his eyes and releasing his hit up into the night sky. Louis passes the pipe and lighter over his shoulder and Harry unwinds his embrace to accept it. He leans back against the wall again and puts the pipe to his mouth. The red glass is cool and smooth beneath his fingers as he lights the bowl and siphons the sweet smoke down his throat, and holds it in just long enough to feel lightheaded and fuzzy, then exhales. Harry’s hands fall to his thighs as Louis leans back on him, his body warm and solid against Harry’s chest.

“Just do ‘Rock, Paper, Scissors’ for it lads.” Louis suggests with a tinkle of amusement.

Niall, Liam and Zayn all push their fists out in front of themselves to compete for the next hit, and Harry leans his head against Louis’ to giggle as Niall murmurs a Celtic prayer for victory. Harry’s bum is pressed a little uncomfortably against the ground beneath Louis’ weight, but mostly he just feels relaxed and warm and good. The silver sound of rain pulls his attention away from his friends. They are all shielded from the weather, but the ground just in front of them darkens slowly with soft sprinkles of rain.

“There ya go Payno, you pulled that out!” Harry’s attention pulls back into focus as Louis high-fives Liam for winning and Niall pulls the pipe from Harry’s loose grip to reload it. Zayn grumbles quietly about the indecency of the supplier being the last to get to smoke.

They smoke slowly, listening to the distant thunder and Zayn’s stories about all the adventures he had with his older cousins. And by the time they are all loose limbed and giggly the rain has developed beyond a gentle mist and into a lashing downpour. Harry stands against the wall of the gym in between Niall and Liam as they all stare helplessly at the torrential rain.

“We’re gonna have to wait it out for sure.” Niall muses.

Rainwater is falling so hard and heavy it bounces off of the asphalt, sounding like a roaring river as it floods the field they crossed earlier.

“It’s already one in the morning, and this rain could last hours.” Liam whines.

“Fuck. I need to get home.” Zayn mutters, and Harry leans forward to look past Liam at Louis, already knowing what his solution will be before he speaks it.

“Guess there’s only one option…” Louis starts.

“It’s not waiting it out, is it?” Liam guesses, sounding as if he’s already accepted the fate Louis is about to thrust them all into.

“Nope!” Louis agrees cheerily before hopping out into the rain and yanking Liam out with him.

“Gonna run for it!!” Louis announces before dashing towards the field. His form gets swallowed by the dark wall of rain and Harry spares a fleeting glance at Niall and Zayn before they all follow after Louis and Liam blindly.

“I’m too fucking high for this!” Niall shouts from Harry’s left, and Harry laughs loud and bright as he dashes through the storm. The rain is heavy and disorienting and Harry’s long legs cross the asphalt without hazard, but the muddy field does him in. After just a few strides against the slick ground his feet slip out from under him and he falls face first into the flooded grass.

He flips over to keep his face out of the mud and closes his eyes to the heavy wave of rain falling down on him. Hysterical laughter ripples out of him, and the far-off commotion of his friends shouting and laughing comes into focus, but he doesn’t sit up to find them just yet. The thick summer air is warm and so is the rain, and lying at the mercy of the storm, Harry feels euphoric. Rain water is dancing along his face and hands and stomach, thunder is rumbling softly enough to be something of a comfort. It feels almost magical, stretched out beneath the heavens, listening to the sky fall into the earth. The splatter of rainfall is loud down against the ground and it sounds both chaotic and musical beneath his intoxication. He can feel every drop of rain, hundreds of them kissing against his skin every second, crashing down on him like a waterfall. It feels like the earth and the sky have blended into one, and he’s not sure which medium he’s laying against anymore, liquid or solid?

“Harold…” Louis’ voice flutters across Harry’s chin, raspy and giggly, and Harry opens his eyes to find Louis hovering above him on his hands and knees. The rain continues to fall around them, but Louis is shielding him from it now.

“What are you doing down here?” Louis chuckles, and his bright blue eyes crinkle at the edges, curving up into crescent-moons as a smile shines down at Harry. The rain pouring down from the sky is making rivers down Louis’ jawline and eyelashes and his eyes are a piercing, glowing blue within the murky downpour, shining so bright they look like shards of sunlight breaking through the storm. Harry feels his body light up from the inside out at the sight of him.

“I fell.” Harry explains with a shrug. Rainwater courses down Louis’ sharp cheek bones and over his lips, dropping off of his mouth in a warm stream down to Harry’s body.

“God, you light weight. You’re so high.” Louis shakes his head fondly and Harry grins up at him. His clothes feel weighed down with gallons of water and he hears the clear ring of Niall cackling from somewhere in the distance, but he doesn’t want to move yet, he can’t find it in himself to look away from Louis’ glowing eyes.

“C'mon Love, I gotcha.” Louis pushes himself up and reaches a hand down to Harry. Harry grabs hold of him and lifts himself up out of the puddles but his stomach lurches as he feels his boots slip on the slick, muddy ground again. Louis grabs firmly to Harry’s waist to keep him up right and they freeze for a half-second before locking eyes and bursting into laughter at the near fall. A soggy, drenched body comes knee sliding into Harry’s peripheral and he stumbles into Louis as Liam comes to a stop at his feet. Beyond a wall of rain Niall and Zayn are applauding Liam’s effort but they are both of bent over at the waist, laughing.

“Li you’re doing it all wrong. You’ve gotta get a running start!” Zayn’s husky voice shouts, barely audible above the stampede of rain.

“Step aside, amateur. Let me show you how it’s done.” Louis says then nods at Harry and who grins in return, understanding Louis’ wordless suggestion. Harry nods his consent to Louis with an airy giddiness spreading through his limbs. Louis counts down from three and Harry doesn’t hesitate, he takes off at a sprint with Louis right by his side, matching him stride for stride despite Harry’s longer legs. After five leaping step harry throws his weight back and drops down onto his left thigh and hip. His body goes hydroplaning across the flooded field and he feels like he’s flying. There’s rain water slapping against his face and mud painting across his legs and boots, and Harry can see the splatter of Louis sliding through a river of mud just beside him. They both come to a spinning halt a few seconds later and a wave of woops and shouts hit the air, so Harry holds his hands up in victory, letting out his own proud shriek. Harry finds Louis through a sheet of rain and his mouth is open in a manic grin, looking impressed and elated by their synchronized knee slide. A splatter of footfalls sounds through the rain and Harry twists around to see Liam, Niall, and Zayn all racing towards them. Louis cackles loud and bright as all three drop down into knee slides and Harry flings himself over to Louis with laughter bubbling up out of him. A wave of puddle water is flung across them before they are buried beneath elbows, knees and shoulders as the other three pile onto them in a mess of muddy limbs.

After an impromptu wrestling match, a few mud angels and an official knee-sliding competition the rain stops as suddenly as it had started, and by the time they all cross the field and make it back to the road Harry is breathless and grinning. He has mud covering his legs and chest and caked into his hair. The other boys are moving around him raucously, loud and energized as they knock against Harry and swipe mud off of their arms and legs. Harry stomps his feet against the asphalt road to dislodge the layer of mud on the bottom of his boots, and then yanks his shirt up and over his head.

“Well I’m glad I don’t care much for this shirt.” Harry laughs as he tosses the muddy t-shirt back into the flooded field.

“Good idea Haz.” Zayn murmurs and the other boys all remove their destroyed shirts and throw them into the field.

“I’ll come back and pick those up tomorrow.” Harry promises.

“No you wont.” Louis argues with a roll of his eyes.

“Yes. I will. We can’t just leave them there.” Harry insists but Louis just smirks and swipes his hands along the mud on his jeans and flicks it down onto the road as best he can.

“Come on Harry, live a little. Let the dirty shirts keep the memory of us in that field. Future generations can discover them and make up ghost stories about the five boys who died a gruesome death at the hands of a suburban serial killer.”

“But there’s not even any blood on them.” Harry counters, indulging Louis’ serial killer plot just for the fun of it.

“Well, come here then,” Louis saunters up to Harry with amused eyes,“ Lemme take a bite of you,” Harry grins at Louis’ playful tone as he pinches Harry’s chest.

“We’ll just break the skin a little and then you can go drip some blood on them, for the sake of the story and all.”

“I don’t think so, how about we break some of your skin.” Harry argues, smiling brightly at their pointless bickering as Harry reaches out and pinches Louis’ stomach. Louis laughs loud, ducking away from Harry’s reach before moving back in to retaliate, but Liam steps in between them and wraps an arm around Harry’s shoulders.

“Alright, you guys are getting creepy over here.” Liam successfully defuses the war that was about to break out as he steers Harry forward, moving him down the road towards Zayn and Niall.

“Did the weed turn you two into bloodthirsty weirdos or has it always been that way?” Zayn muses, raising a perfect eyebrow at Harry with a smile.

“Liam. What is this? Why are you taking Harry from me?” Louis complains, and he sounds genuinely annoyed behind the mask of his playful tone.

“Louis, I thought we established earlier that Harry was open to the public?” Niall shouts before running around behind Liam and Harry.

“He is for everyone, remember?” Niall says in a motherly tone before jumping up onto Harry’s back. Harry scrambles to grab Niall’s scrawny thighs and secure him up.

“Careful Ni, you break him you buy him. Harry’s legs can barely keep himself upright on his own.” Zayn teases with a gorgeous smirk at Harry. Harry’s feet stumble as if to prove him right.

“Open to the public, my ass.” Louis mumbles with a pretty pout.

“You love me best, don’t ya Hazza?” Louis challenges, sounding pointlessly competitive as usual. Harry looks over to find Louis staring hard at him, a cocky smirk smoldering against his lips. He somehow looks confident and alluring even with mud smeared across his cheeks and layered all down his legs.

“You’re not the one he’s carrying on his back are you, Lou?” Niall taunts.

“You’re also not the one he tackled to the ground and kissed earlier today.” Liam mentions on behalf of Zayn, and Zayn laughs low and raspy in response.

“Why don’t you lads shut up and let the boy answer.” Louis commands in a cheery, confident voice. Harry blushes, feeling flustered and awkward as he hurries to find a way to avoid the question entirely.

“Oh thanks, just feed me to the wolves Lou! Ask me to pick a favorite while I’ve got one on my back and the rest circling around me.” Everyone laughs and Harry grins, glad to have successfully dodged the question.

“Alright you wolves, get off of Hazza. You guys go right, we go left.” They’ve reached the fork in the road that separates Harry and Louis’s street from Liam Niall and Zayn’s. Niall slides off of Harry and gives him a soft hug from behind as Liam executes an intricate handshake with Louis that’s full of fist bumps and finger wiggling and hand slapping.

“See ya round H.” Zayn murmurs as Niall skips over to Louis.

“Welcome home, Z.” Harry replies, smiling full and wide as Zayn wraps him up in a hug. They’re both shirtless and damp, wearing only drenched jeans that drip against the glistening road, but he still feels warm and comfortable wrapped up in Zayn.

“Thanks, babe.” Zayn answers as Liam comes over and wraps an arm around both of them.

“Until next time, Haz.” Liam says with a warm hand squeezing at the back of Harry’s neck.

“Goodnight Li.”

They separate with dramatic shouts of farewell as three boys cross to the right and Louis and Harry turn to the left. Harry can hear the sound of his friends’ voices drifting further and further away as He wanders the empty, wet road next to Louis. The stop sign they walk past is flanked by a streetlamp along the sidewalk and the dull light it casts down glitters against the wet concrete in a wide circle, pale and shimmering like a full moon. The black asphalt road is stretched out endlessly in front of them like a sea of stars as each drop of water caught in the tiny groves of the street twinkles with refracted light. And Harry imagines they are walking atop a nighttime sky, strolling through moons and stars.

Louis strides forward in front of Harry, turning to walk backward so that they face each other, matching Harry step for step gracefully. His hands lift to reveal muddy palms and his eyes zero in on Harry, glimmering with a mischief that has Harry smiling without reason.

“War paint?” He murmurs in a voice that is suddenly just for Harry, and Harry lights up under the attention, grinning slowly and nodding his consent. Their steps slow down together, walking cautiously as Louis’s eyes scan Harry’s features, and his mouth curves up in a smirk as he plots out his mischief. Louis’ eyes and hands soften as he reaches forward, sliding a smooth forefinger down the bridge of Harry’s nose, they both giggle into each other space, quiet and private before Louis’ soft touch moves to paint a thick streak of cold mud along Harry’s cheekbone. The pad of his thumb brushes along the length of Harry’s jaw, slow and careful, and Harry pulls his lower lip into his mouth as the world fades away around them. Louis’ left hand comes up to press four fingertips against the underside of Harry’s jaw and drag them downward. The sensation sends shivers down Harry’s spine. He places a single dot against Harry’s chin then murmurs, “Close your eyes.” Harry does as he’s told and their footsteps decrease into subconscious shuffles. Louis’ fingers press ever so softly to place a dot of wet earth on each of Harry’s eyelid. Lastly they dip into each of Harry’s dimples and Harry smiles, letting his dimples blossom to life beneath Louis’ touch.

“Gotta cover those devastating dimples.” Louis teases softly. Harry flutters his eyes open and the both fall into soft giggles, ducking their heads together and shuffling down the deserted road at a lazy pace.

“How do i look?” Harry asks softly and Louis smiles gently at him.

Under anyone else’s gaze Harry would feel ridiculous, clown-like. But Louis’s eyes are soft and fond, looking at him as if after just a few streaks of mud Harry has been transformed into a precious work of art. And Harry knows that it’s those quiet, admiring eyes that fuel his unwavering loyalty. They keep him coming back and agreeing to every devious idea, no matter how crazy or ridiculous it may be. Because when everything is said and done there is always a moment of silent praise, a gentle look that is only ever directed at Harry, and Harry sort of lives for it.

“Beautiful. A modern day Mona Lisa.” Louis smile, his eyes crinkling.

“Oh really? Then i suppose you’ve got a real future in the fine arts, don’t you?” Harry teases.

“Of course, I’m nothing if not sophisticated.”

They reach their houses at nearly two in the morning, having spent too much time walking down the empty street at a snail’s pace as they painted dirty images against each other’s bare torsos. They part with a few sleepy pinches and slaps and giggles before rushing off into their respective homes to shower and sleep.

After Harry peels off his sticky jeans and washes away the mounds of mud dried across his body he finally crawls into his big comfy bed with a long yawn. The final remnants of his high are slipping away but Harry’s muscles still feel loose and relaxed, his brain feels blurry and calm. Sleep should hit him like an avalanche but he lies awake for a long time, listening to his empty house creak and hum as the air conditioner kicks on pushes cold air into the dark rooms. His eyes wander across the mural of pictures along the ceiling above his bed, and he smiles lazily, blinking slow and soft as he remembers piecing the mural to life a month ago. It was Louis’ idea. He came over while Harry was trying to finish the last English assignment of the school year, a biographical essay about the most influential people in your life. Along with the written assignment, they were told to create a collage of pictures or words that described the importance of the chosen people. Louis had come over unexpectedly and when Harry rushed to close the word document of his essay Louis poked and prodded until Harry finally revealed what he’d tried to hide away. The essay was an embarrassing idolization of Louis, Liam, Niall and Zayn, and Harry had blushed painfully while Louis read it through silently. Louis had loved it though, and he tackled Harry to the bed kissing his cheeks and cooing and ruffling his hair like the menace that he is. When Harry tried to kick him out so that he could get started on the collage Louis insisted on helping, and he quickly came up a plan drenched in his signature extravagance. So that weekend, instead of pasting pictures against a poster board, Louis and Harry went to town and printed out hundreds of pictures from their phones and when they returned to Harry’s room they spent all night taping the pictures to his ceiling. They balanced stepstools on top of chairs and the bed and nearly cracked their heads open a half dozen times. They laughed at each other as they struggled to balance on their precarious towers and they wasted full rolls of tape by wrapping it around each other’s limbs. They argued over picture placement and listened to music and relived the countless memories that they shared within the photos. Harry took pictures of their collage as it progressed and a picture of the finished product, and with the help of Louis he had gotten an A on the assignment.

Harry smiles softly as the memory washes over him, and as he lays in a relaxed state somewhere between asleep and awake, his eyes search for Louis in every picture that hangs above him, and it’s a little surprising how easily he finds him. It’s like Louis is highlighted, underlined and emboldened. Even in pictures Louis stands out like neon next to black and white. And Harry supposes, on the color spectrum of humanity Louis really is the neon hues.

Zayn is the cool tones, blues and purples, relaxed and deep and calming. Niall is the warm tones, oranges and yellows, sunny and vibrant. Liam is the earth tones, browns and greens, rich and homey and relatable. And Louis is the neons. Louis grabs everyone’s attention, forces everyone to take a second glance. He is bright and loud and beautiful, and for some people it might all a bit too much, but either way it’s impossible to deny how brightly he shines.

Harry on the other hand feels flat and undefined, like grey. He is everything that is neither here nor there. He isn’t really shy, but he’s not bold either. He isn’t overly calm or overly extravagant. He has soft wavy hair that can’t decide if it’s curly or straight, he has soft round lips that can’t decide if their pink or red, and he’s got a shifting, indistinct personality that varies depending on who he’s with. Harry is the grey-scale of humanity. And as he slips into sleep he hopes that as he grows he can find his way out of the in-between, and maybe someday he can find a way to be as bright and vibrant as Louis.  


	3. Stardust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter turned out longer than expected! But there are a lot of layers to Louis and Harry's friendship dynamic in here, and some new insight to Harry's character :) Thanks for readying, enjoy!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is some reference to a scientific theory about the beginning of the Universe, but I mean no disrespect to any religious beliefs. :)

 Harry stumbles a little as his rust colored boots cross the lawn of his yard and slap down against the asphalt of the neighborhood road. It’s another warm night, but through some small miracle there’s not a cloud in the sky, and Harry tilts his head back to admire the stars he’s so rarely gotten a glimpse of this summer. His curls tickle against the back of his neck as he stares up at the heavens, his limbs feel loose and airy, his mind is calm and quiet. There’s something about walking around at night while the rest of the world is asleep that either riles Harry up or softens him down, and tonight he feels soft and calm, content. The cadence of an Irish accent trickles into Harry’s peaceful watch of the sky, and he turns around to find Liam and Niall strolling towards him in the middle of the deserted road. Niall’s thin frame is colored in the shadow tones of the moonless night. He is a wash of blues and greys while his arms move expressively as he speaks. Liam’s more muscular stature is laughing along to his story, shoulders hunched up as he chuckles. They are right on time as usual. And Louis is late, as usual.

“Hey Hazza.” Niall says jovially, offering up his closed palm for a fist-bump as soon as they are within arms-length of each other.

“Hey guys. No Zaynie tonight?” Harry asks, he had expected to see Zayn trailing behind them sucking on a cigarette.

“Nope he’s making the ultimate sacrifice,” Niall answers, “following his curfew until the Bungalow Trip next week.” Harry’s eyebrows rise in shock, considering Zayn hasn’t followed curfew since he was fourteen.

“Wow, he’s my hero. I’ll have to send him a nude or something as a thank you.” Niall laughs loud and bright and Harry can’t help but join him.

“Still waiting on Tommo?” Liam asks by way of greeting. His brown doe eyes are shining with mirth at Harry’s comment.

“Yup. High maintenance, as usual.” Harry answers with a flash of his dimpled smile.

“Well i don’t blame him if he doesn’t show altogether. You’re lucky i was bored at home. Hippie Harry is really taking us out to watch shooting stars, huh?” Niall teases with a wide grin and a too loud voice.

“Oh shut up, you came, didn’t ya?” Harry pushes his hands against Niall’s chest and Niall laughs, catching Harry’s wrists to keep from stumbling backward.

“Anyways I’m gonna go get Lou. If I’m not back out here in seven minutes send reinforcements.” Harry flashes Liam and Niall a smile before crossing the street and creeping his way up to Louis’ bedroom window along the side of the house.

 The window is nearly shut, with only a finger’s width of a gap left open, and Louis’ billowy blue drapes are pulled closed. Harry knows the signal clearly by now, closed curtains means Louis is either wanking or showering. Harry had sent him three text messages within the last hour, all without reply, but he still thinks it’s safe to assume Louis had received the messages and decided to shower. Harry pushes the window fully open and peaks his head inside past the curtains. Louis’ room is empty and dim, the posters and pictures crowed along his walls are gleaming in the flickering light of the television, which sits muted at the far-side of the room. Just as suspected, his bathroom door is shut and a bright pale light is peeking out from the crack near the floor. Harry pulls himself into the room, surprising himself by managing the feat with almost no stomps or stumbles, and as he stands to his full height the bathroom door opens, spilling out a bright white light and a cloud of shower steam. Louis steps into the bedroom with just a towel wrapped around his waist, skin still damp and hair dripping water onto the tops of his freckled shoulders. He’s looking down, adjusting the knotted towel, and he looks ethereal with such a soft light striking against the planes of his back, and a pale darkness cloaking him from the front. The sharp contrast of light and shadow against his bare skin combined with the glowing fog of shower steam gives him an unearthly appearance, almost angelic, and Harry blushes softly at what a beautiful image he makes.  It feels a little wrong, staring at this pretty, quiet version of Louis while he thinks he’s alone, so Harry clears his throat and says,

“Hey Lou,”  trying to speak low enough to not startle him, but his voice still makes Louis jump and gasp, and the laughter it shocks out of Harry dies on his tongue when Louis’ eyes snap up. He freezes when he sees Harry, and Harry knows immediately that he’s been crying. His eyes are puffy and blotchy and the skin around them is red and irritated like he’s been wiping tears away too harshly. Harry’s heart launches up into his throat, sadness and worry churning around in the pit of his stomach as he stares at his best friend.

“Harry.” Louis breaks eye contact and turns his back to Harry, his hands pretending to continue adjusting the knot of his towel.

“Jesus you know you’re not supposed to come in if the curtains are drawn, I was just about to drop me towel.” Louis says, and his voice is high and awkward as he aims for casual conversation and falls despairingly short. Harry hesitates, wondering if he should play along with Louis’ charade of normalcy or not.

“Yeah sorry. Just um. Thought you were, like, ignoring my texts cause you thought the meteor shower idea was lame. I was planning on making you come anyways.” Harry cringes as he falls awkwardly short of a casual tone as well. Louis keeps his back to Harry and runs his hands across his face, sniffling twice before turning around finally.

“Are the other lads already out there?” He asks, looking anywhere but at Harry.

“Niall and Li are, yea. They’re probably on their way to help me persuade you into coming as we speak.”

“Fuck. I’ll meet you out there in five minutes ok? Just gotta pull on some clothes.” Louis looks around at the clothes on his floor without moving to grab any, fidgeting with his towel and shifting his weight from one foot to the other. Harry sees Louis’ clear distress, the way he’s trying to pull himself together without any real success, and he decides to drop the casual act. He strides over to Louis in a few long steps and pulls him into his chest. He is met with no resistance and the easy give from the older boy worries Harry further. Usually under genuine sadness, Louis would fight tooth and nail against be babied, but this time Louis collapses against Harry, wrapping his arms around his waist and burying his face in Harry’s curls. Harry wraps his gangly arms around Louis’ bare shoulders and holds him tight.

“What happened, Louis? Why’ve you been crying?” Harry whispers to him.

“Nothing. Nothing happened, I’m fine.” Louis answers. Harry runs his fingertips down Louis’ spine, frowning at his obvious lies. Harry can count on one hand how many times he’s seen Louis cry, like really cry in the way that would make his eyes swell up and redden, and he wants to climb into bed with him, tangle their limbs together and pet his hair until he opens up about whatever he is hiding.

“I can text Niall and Liam right now. Tell them you’re feeling sick and -

“No! No. I wanna go.” Louis interrupts sounding urgent and adamant. He leans deeper into Harry for just a moment, his wet hair pressing into Harry’s cheek and jaw, his bare chest heaving with a long deep breath and his arms tightening as they hold to Harry’s middle. Then he pulls back, straightening his spine and rolling his shoulders back as he steps away far enough to finally look Harry in the eye.

“I want to get out of this house. I’m fine. Promise.” Louis’ voice is firm, but his eyes are still a little puffy, and Harry is overflowing with questions and worries and confusion. But he lets Louis pull out of the embrace, because if Louis needs to get out of the house then Harry wants to give him that.

“I’ll meet you out there is five minutes, Harry.” Louis looks at him significantly, putting a clear end to the matter. 

“Caw!! Caw!!” A horribly unrealistic crow call sounds from outside of Louis’ bedroom window.

“Hooooo hooooo!” An owl noise joins in. Liam and Niall have obviously come to help.

“Oi lads! My sisters are sleeping, shut it.” Louis hisses at the window. Harry watches as Louis grabs a pair of jeans and a burgundy t-shirt and shuffles back into the bathroom, pushing the door only halfway closed in his hurry.

“Are we doing this or what?” Liam’s voice whispers into the room. Harry turns around to see his upper body leaning into the room.

“Yea, we’re coming.” Harry answers. His stomach is still churning with worry for Louis, but he knows that once Louis has decided not to talk about something, there’s no forcing it out of him. Harry opens the top drawer of Louis’ dresser and grabs a pair of clean boxer briefs before tossing them into the opening of the bathroom door.

“Thank you.”  Louis’ voice calls out, already chiming with a purposeful, easy going nonchalance for the benefit of Niall and Liam.

“C'mon then, isn’t there some kind of timeframe for the meteor shower?” Niall asks from outside of the window.

“Alright, alright.” Harry shuffles towards the window and clambers back out into the night. He leans against the side of the house with Liam and Niall as they wait for Louis to join them and tries to ignore how uneasy he feels.

“You ok, Harry?” Liam asks. Harry pulls his eyes up from where he’d been watching himself scuff his boot against the grass.

“What? Yea. Yea I’m great.” Harry pastes on a smile and Liam swings an arm around his shoulders as Louis finally drops out of his bedroom window. He looks the same as every other day as he turns to face them with relaxed shoulders, sharp blue eyes, and a captivating smirk.

“Alright lads?” He greets easily, and then tosses a football to Niall.

“Just been waiting on you all night.” Niall teases, and Louis reacts enthusiastically, smiling wide and bright as they all begin heading towards the road.

“As it should be, mate. Like you have anything better to do with your time?” Louis is putting on an impressive performance, pulling Niall into a headlock and dragging him across the yard as they wrestle around a bit, but the more Louis acts as if nothing is out of the ordinary, the more worried Harry feels.

Liam tugs Harry along, laughing at their rambunctious friends, and Harry hooks his arms around Liam’s waist. There is a heavy weight sinking down in the pit of his stomach, but he follows Louis’ lead in acting as if everything is normal.

“So why did Zayn ditch us?” Louis asks as he lets go of his hold on Niall. They’ve all reached the street, and they wander down it slowly as Harry keeps himself tucked under Liam’s arm, watching Louis’ every movement and expression silently.

“Curfew.” Liam answers.

“Curfew? Since when does he care about curfew?”

“Well he’s gotta be good boy until the Bungalow Trip, aint he?” Niall repeats the answer he had given Harry earlier.

“Oh fuck yea, can’t wait until next week!” Louis exclaims, high-fiving Niall. Harry’s mumbles out an agreement along with Liam and Niall and a soft silence settles around them, just the sound of their footsteps and the occasional kicked rock filling the air. Harry keeps his eyes on Louis as subtly as possible, looking up at the sky and using his peripheral vision to watch Louis fidget with his shirt and hair, huffing out a long sigh and chewing on his lips as he seems to struggle with the silence around them. There’s a sadness in his eyes that’s easier to spot while he’s not exerting the energy to entertain everyone. Harry’s brain is flicking through the few scenarios that could actually make Louis’ cry, and all of them make his stomach churn.

“It’s been a while since we’ve been in the Scooby Van, can you believe Zayn’s parents are letting him take it to the coast?” Louis’ voice breaks the silence to bring up the big old van that had belonged to Zayn’s dad when he was a teenager. It’s the van Zayn had learned to drive in, and he had let each of the other boys practice driving in it last summer, as well.

“It’s called the Mystery Machine.” Liam leans forward to see past Harry as he corrects Louis.

“Same thing Liam, the Mystery Machine is literally the van from Scooby Doo.” Louis shoulders seem to relax as he finds a new topic to banter about.

“Yea but the literal name of the van is the Mystery Machine.” Liam counters.

“It doesn’t matter what the literal name of it is, we don’t have the literal vehicle.”

“We’ve called it the Scooby Van since we were like, eleven.” Niall joins in on the conversation.

“Exactly. Why are you trying to rewrite history Liam?!”

“I just thought maybe we would want to use the proper name now that we’re older.”

“Well you were wrong Li, it will always be the Scooby Van in my heart.” At the sound of Louis’ words Harry smiles a little despite his worries. They all love the old rickety Scooby Van but for some reason, Louis has always been especially fond of it.

As they make their way to the corner store for snacks, Harry spends the next ten minutes listening to his friends rave about the upcoming trip to the Bungalow that Zayn’s family owns along the coast. They have been collectively planning the trip since last summer, when Zayn’s older sister was given the privilege as a 17th birthday present. Zayn’s parents had promised him he could do the same the summer after he turned 17, and now the official Bungalow Trip is only 5 days away. It had taken a bit of convincing for Harry to be granted permission for the road trip, being that he is a year younger and no adults would be present for their three days at the coast. But after persistent badgering, begging, and bribing, Louis and Harry collectively broke his mother down, and she had agreed that he could participate, at the price of three car washings and a weekend spent cleaning out the garage.   

When the florescent glow of the 24 hour corner store shines just ahead of them, Louis shouts out a command to race, counting down from three without waiting for a reply and then Niall Liam and Louis are all sprinting towards the parking lot at the end of the street. The scuffle and smack of their footsteps ring through the quiet night as Harry stays behind. He knows he looks like he’s moping by not participating, so he speeds up his steps and pastes on a smile, but there’s still a cold weight down in his stomach as his mind flashes back to Louis’ red rimmed eyes.

By the time he meets up with the other three at the front of the store Louis is listing off items rapid-fire, and Niall and Liam are murmuring the list back to themselves, keeping track on their fingers and squeezing their eyes shut in an effort to memorize Louis’ list. They are clearly starting a grocery-store-scavenger-hunt, a crazy game Louis came up with a few years ago which entails a long list of unnecessary oddities to search for and purchase within a given time limit. Louis had once challenged Harry and Zayn to go buy sausage links, condoms and a nudie magazine; not the most complicated list to be given out, but to this day it remains the most embarrassing one.

“Because the list is so long and, I dare say, the most confusing one to date, you are not racing against each other. This is a team challenge. You have ten minutes to complete the challenge and if you succeed you both get first choice for rooms in the bungalow, if you lose me and Hazza get first choice.” Louis lays out the ground rules of the challenge and then pulls out his phone to look at the time.

“Ten minutes begins…. NOW.”  Liam and Niall jog into the store like the scavenger hunt is something of grave importance and Louis turns to face Harry with a raised eyebrow and crossed arms. His coppery hair is soft and feathery looking and his red shirt makes the soft pink shade of his lips more pronounced, but it’s hard to appreciate all the little details of him while his eyes are focused on Harry with reproach.

“Look Harry. I need you to stop worrying about me.” Louis says firmly. He sounds exasperated, and his eyes are accusing, so naturally Harry’s first instinct is denial.

“What? I’m not worrying about you.”

“Really? Well tell that to your face, because it’s doing that puppy dog thing that I hate.” Louis says dryly. Harry scrunches his face up in a pouty scowl.

“You hate my puppy dog thing?”

“Yea. Cuz it always wins you the argument.”

“What argument? We aren’t arguing.” Harry insists with a sinking stomach. He hopes they aren’t arguing, he hates arguing with Louis.

“Well not yet, but we will be here quick, if you don’t stop guilt-tripping me into talking about something that i clearly don’t wanna talk about.” Louis’ voice is firm and a bit threatening and Harry’s jaw drops open is surprise. He crosses his arms in a defensive posture.

“Louis! I’ve literally not said a word about it!”

“We’ve been friends for 84 years, you don’t need to speak words to guilt-trip me. Your face says it all Haz.”

Harry rolls his eyes and scoffs at Louis’ criticism, how can he be upset about Harry’s subconscious facial expressions?

“I can’t help it if my face is looking sad, or worried or whatever. I’ve only ever seen you cry during sad movies. Even when you broke you’re pinkie finger you only barely teared up.” Harry explains, his voice sounding worried even to himself.

“I did NOT tear up!” Louis scoffs, his blue eyes glaring a little.

“Louis…” Harry tilts his head and stares at him pointedly. They both know he teared up.

“Harry…"  Louis stares pointedly back. There is a few seconds of mutual stubbornness before Louis lets his shoulders sag and his eyes soften

“Look. I came out here to hang out with my mates, and NOT think about things that are pissing me off.”

“Louis.” Harry uncrosses his arms and wraps his hands softly around each of Louis’ elbows. “You weren’t pissed off, you were very sad.” Harry says softly to him, and he knows that his face is doing that puppy dog worry thing but he can’t help it.

“Well… none of that is the point. The point is that I came to hangout, and if you can’t control your face then I will walk back home right now.” Harry drops his hands away from Louis’ body, feeling a sting of frustration twitch in his chest.

“You’re giving me an ultimatum about my facial expressions?” Harry asks in disbelief. He feels a little ruffled. Put off by Louis’ desperation to control the situation.

“Yes. So stop pitying me so we can get on with the night.” Louis grits out. His eyes drop down to the side and his jaw clenches. Harry’s frustration slips away instantly.

“Louis, I don’t pity you, what the hell?”

“Ok. Well… then… stop feeling sad for me.” Louis corrects. He looks up at Harry and scrapes his teeth against his bottom lip before finally huffing out a breath.

“Ok, I’m only going to say this once and then we are gonna forget about this entire conversation for the rest of the night.” Louis asserts. His eyes look softer and he’s wringing his hands together like he’s nervous. Harry nods his agreement.

“I don’t want to be at home tonight. Understand?” Louis’s eyes look honest and a little desperate and he bunches his hands softly in the front of Harry’s shirt.

“So I need you to stop stressing me out with your sad face. Don’t give me a reason to leave.”

Harry pinches his eyebrows in, a frown pulling at his mouth and worry sitting heavy in his stomach.

“Would you stop pinning weather you stay or go on me? That’s really unfair.”

“No, it’s not. I had a really, really fucked up night.” Louis’ eyes flash a little, and he flickers his focus back and forth between Harry’s eyes. Louis’ words are sharp in Harry’s chest, and they burrow there under his skin where they are sure to itch and sting and tug for Harry’s attention for the rest of the night.

“And i need to not think about it. I know you’re not doing anything on purpose, but your upset-face is upsetting me. I don’t want to feel upset tonight. Not with you.”

Harry swallows thickly. His mind is swirling with guilt and frustration.

“That’s the last thing i want Louis, I don’t want to upset you. Ever.” Harry says earnestly. Louis’ hands relax their hold on Harry’s shirt, smoothing out the wrinkles they had caused before he takes a step back.

“I know you just want to help me. You always wanna help, yea?” Louis speaks softly, his voice fond. “Just let me forget about things, just for tonight ok?” Louis tilts his head and gives Harry a sad smile. “That means no more worrying from you. Please.”

Really how can Harry deny him anything when he’s spilled his pain out all across the concrete? Louis may have not offered up any real information, but he was honest about what he was feeling and what he needed, and now Harry just wants to help in whichever way Louis will allow.

“Ok.” Harry agrees.

“Alright.” Louis pats Harry’s stomach softly before walking past him just as the store doors open. Harry stands there with his back to his friends as they mumble on about candy choices or something.

There is a ball of guilt pressing up against Harry’s windpipe as he realizes he’s spent the last fifteen minutes unwittingly reminding Louis of whatever it is he set out to escape tonight. Beyond his guilt Harry is feeling upset with himself for not having a better poker face. And upset with Louis for expecting Harry to seem convincingly happy after seeing tear trails streaked across his cheeks. And maybe feeling frustrated or upset is actually irrational, because Louis is only asking for a happy, fun night. He couldn’t really ask for something more simple than that, but at the moment it feels impossible to paste on a shiny smile.

“Me and Harry win you two forgot the eye-drops. C’mon lads, we’ve got an empty field to get to.” Louis calls out. There’s a false enthusiasm soaking through his words that makes Harry cringe.

Niall falls into step with Harry as they all start walking along the road again.

“What’s wrong? Did something happen while me and Liam were in the store?” Niall asks. Harry glances back to see Louis and Liam peeking into two bags of junk food a few paces back.

“Nah… Me and Louis were just discussing… how unhelpful i am.” Harry mutters.

“Shut up. You are a helpful baby deer, he must be off his rocker tonight.” Truthfully Harry’s has always been a sucker for pretty pet-names, and Niall’s single sentence somehow chases away some of his gloom.

“Eh, it’s nothing serious, I’ll be over it in five minutes. Just need a cuddle.” Harry glances over at Niall and smiles when he opens arms up.

“Five minutes is just long enough for one of the Irish folklore stories you love.” Niall offers. Harry grins softly and wraps himself around Niall as they begin to walk. It’s a bit uncoordinated with Harry having to crouch a little to fit his head on Niall’s shoulder, and Niall’s limbs are only the tiniest bit less clumsy than Harry’s so they are veering a from one side of the road to the other, but it loosens Harry’s tense muscles almost immediately.

“Alright which one do you want to hear, Hazza?” Niall asks. A football rolls up in front of them and Liam and Louis follow it along, one boy on each side of the road as they kick it back and forth lazily, each carrying a bag full of snacks and whatever odds and ends Louis had snuck into the scavenger hunt.

“Tell me your favorite one.” Harry answers. He watches Louis’ strong legs take lengthened strides to keep up with the football, the moonless night almost swallowing his figure in darkness as he moves along the empty road. Louis glances back at him and Harry averts his gaze quickly, wrapping himself tighter around Niall and closing his eyes. Niall starts telling an Irish love story, and Harry lets his curly words drift through him, barely paying attention to them. Instead he pays attention to the bony fingers Niall has pressed against his waist, the sound of their feet against the road, and the feeling of the night breeze tangling into his curly hair. He lets the warm air relax his worried mind. As if he knows Harry’s not really paying attention, Niall jabs his fingers just below Harry’s ribs in a tickle. Harry’s eyes flash open and he lets out a bright laugh, his body convulsing under Niall’s prodding fingers and they both go stumbling forward with loud smacks against the pavement. Harry squirms and wiggles to escape Niall’s fingers but Niall just pulls him tighter against his body.

“Not even gonna listen to the greatest love story of all time!!?” Niall shouts over Harry’s laughter.

“I was, I was!” Harry lies through his giggles. Niall wiggles his fingers just right as punishment, and Harry’s knees nearly give out as he lets out a loud bark of laughter.

“You weren’t! I thought you were Irish at heart Harry, you should be ashamed!” Niall continues. But now he’s laughing loudly too, footsteps stuttering to keep Harry upright as they both curl around each other in a pile of laughter and flailing arms.

“I am Irish at heart!!” Harry shouts with a chuckle. He feels light again, happy and airy.

“Forgive me, forgive me.” He begs playfully, and Niall’s fingers finally stop their attacks. They are both panting a little bit as they stand back up to full height and Harry looks over at Niall’s bright eyes and blonde hair and feels very lucky to have him. He can always count on Niall to wrap him up in sunshine and love. Harry curls around him fully, chest to chest, arms tight around his shoulders, face tucked down into his neck. There are still a few giggles hiccupping out of him as Niall hugs him without question.

“Alright, you are forgiven, no need to seduce me.” Niall teases.

“You know I’ve always had a thing for leprechauns.” Harry jokes back.

“Are you lads going to join us or what?!” Liam’s voice carries from a stop sign at the end of the road, apparently they had been left behind during their tickling.

“Yeh!” Niall shouts back. Harry unwraps himself from the hug and gives Niall a wink.

“Race ya!” He calls out before darting out in a sprint.

“Oh fuck off, you cheat!!” Niall shouts, but he’s only a few steps behind, cackling madly as they run, and pulling laughter up out of Harry again.

They walk through the night for a good twenty minutes, away from the suburban neighborhood, and towards the empty fields just before the freeways. Louis gets increasingly loud, blue eyes glittering and teeth gleaming and voice echoing. He bounces the football against his knees as he walks and does cartwheels down the middle of the street and sings rap songs with Niall while Liam tries to beat box. Harry watches them all bound along the street, laughing when they laugh, and smiling when they look his way, and pretending he doesn’t notice the way Louis’ face falls every time the silence stretches between them for a little too long. Still, by the time they reach the barbed-wire lined fields his chest does feel a little lighter, and he’s made the firm decision to let Louis handle his problems however he needs to, for now. The fields look endless in the dead of night, all shadow and starlight and rolling green grass.

“This should be a good place, yea?” Louis suggests. He leads the way down the ditch along the side of the road and up to the barbed-wire fence. Liam steps on the bottom wire and lifts up on the middle one, stretching a hole open that doesn’t look nearly as wide as Harry would like it to be.

“Come on then, get in.” Liam prompts, and Niall and Louis slip through fairly easily.

“I’m not really sure that hole can even fit my big feet through it.” Harry whines. But he ducks into the stretched opening and catches his curls on a few of the spikes, but otherwise survives. Louis’ careful fingers sort out Harry’s hair while he opens up the wires for Liam to crawl through, and Harry feels any lingering frustrations he had after their argument, melt away under his soft touch.

When they’ve all crossed through the spiked fence safely they make their way towards the middle of the field. The ground is soft beneath Harry’s steps, plush and giving under a layer of lush grass. The sky looks open and endless above them. Thousands of stars are glittering across the black velvet sky and Harry feels the calm he had started the night off with, descend back into him. It almost feels like he’s on another world out here. There are no florescent street lights, or perfect picket fences. There’s just the chorus of his best friend’s voices, and the infinite terrain, laid out beneath an infinite night.

When Harry feels they are far enough away from the road he reaches out and tugs on Louis arm.

“Here’s good.” He decides. Niall tosses the football down and Liam and Louis set the bags of snacks beside it. Harry lowers himself to the ground and lays out spread-eagle beneath the sky. His long fingers sift through the grass as he fans his arms out wide.

“It’s almost midnight, should it be starting soon?” Liam asks.

“Yea, we’re right on time.” Harry answers. The absence of streetlamps and house lights sits dark and heavy against the field around them. It all looks pitch black compared to the twinkling sky above them, and the stars look like a million house lights from a city they are never meant to reach. The artificial glow of a phone flashlight glares to life at Harry’s side as Louis and Liam bend down to search through the junk food.

“Hands off the chocolate covered peanuts, Payno.” Louis demands. Playful and raspy and loud, he sounds like the opposite of Harry’s quiet, introspective mind frame.

“What, Harry can share! You can share, can’t you H?”

“Why are you two arguing over peanuts when there are sour gummy worms and peanut butter cups in there?” Niall asks, sounding baffled.

“No. Harry’s not sharing, those are his favorite he gets first dibs on ‘em.” Louis continues, and Harry smiles quietly up at the stars as their bickering words fold around him, soft and familiar like a childhood blanket.

“Fine, but you’re sharing your soda Tommo.”

“Nope, not after you’ve gotten grabby with my boy’s nuts.” Harry and Niall both burst into laughter as soon as Louis’ words hit the air. Harry laughs so hard he thinks the city of stars can hear it, and Liam must be giving Louis some sort of unimpressed or annoyed expression because Louis sounds all too pleased when he speaks again.

“Oh come one Li, when have you ever known me to pass up an easy innuendo?”

“I keep hoping you will! I mean, have some standards Tommo.” Liam teases, jumping in with banter easily. “When are you going to advance past the jokes you enjoyed when you were thirteen?”

“I don’t need sleek sophistication to find something funny Liam. What kind of snobbery is that?” Louis counters. Harry giggles for a couple seconds before jiggling his knees up and down with a whine.

“Will you guys get over here and join my hippie powwow.” Harry pouts, feeling lonely down on the ground by himself.

“That’s pretty racially insensitive, Love. It’s called a hippie circle. Powwows are a religious tradition for Native Americans, I believe.” Louis comments with all the snobbery he can manage, as Niall joins Harry in lying down on the grass.

“Yeah. Well. You’re still the one who just made a nut joke.” Harry says, earning a small chuckle from Niall and Liam.

Louis wanders over and presses a bag of chocolate covered peanuts against Harry’s stomach, standing above him as nothing more than a curvy silhouette, outlined by sparkling stars.

“And you’re still the one who laughed loudest at it.” Louis murmurs pleasantly, sounding as if he’s just won an argument.  Harry reaches up to pinch his thigh and Louis giggles, evading Harry’s fingers and tumbling down to lay at Harry’s side. Harry’s heart swells at the sound of Louis’ genuine laughter after listening to an hour of his fake enthusiasm.

“Nothing new there, Harry laughs loudest at all of your jokes.” Liam says fondly. Harry feels a blush warm his cheeks, and he lets out an unnecessary giggle because he feels like he’s been caught with his hand in the cookie jar for some reason.

“Well, he is my target audience if I’m being honest.”

“Oi, I’m insulted. Are you saying that Hazza’s laughter is more rewarding than mine, Lou!?” Niall asks in a scandalized voice.

“Of course it is Niall. A tumbleweed could make you laugh.” Liam teases from where he’s laying just opposite of Harry.

“Prolly quicker than you could, Liam.” Niall says flatly, and Harry cackles wildly up to the sky, Louis laughing loudly along with him.

“That wasn’t even funny!” Liam exclaims, but it only sends Harry and Louis into a louder burst of laughter.

“It was just so spot on!” Louis explains through a giggle. “You can’t deliver a joke to save your life.” Louis presses.

“What!? I’m funny.”  Liam insists with a pouty voice, which just sends everyone into a new wave of laughter.

After their giggles quiet, they lay down in a makeshift circle, their heads nearly touching and their bodies jutting out along the grass. They are one person short of forming the shape of a star, but Harry thinks, it’s close enough. There are thousands of stars above them out of reach, but tonight down on earth they have created a star of their own.

The sky is a deep shade of violet, hanging above them like a dark endless ocean. And if he were to ever sprout wings and take flight, Harry thinks he would like to submerge himself in that sea of starlight. Float across the night sky. Dive in and capture the stars like they were pearls at the bottom of the ocean.

Harry’s eyes scan the expanse of the glittering sky, waiting for a star to dive into the earth and flame out against the atmosphere. Louis’ arm snaps up to point to the heavens as he spots the first falling star and Harry feels a twinge of disappointment that he had missed it, but a second one glints across the sky in the blink of an eye and Harry catches sight of it, blurting out an exclamation of awe with both Niall and Louis. The meteor shower picks up, and after the initial wave of excitement for it, a quiet settles around them.

Harry watches the stars rain down with a smile. The breeze rustles against the grass and crickets sing somewhere in the distance, and his friends’ quiet words of wonder twirl along the night air. The world around him feels endless and all encompassing, but the revelation that the earth is only a grain of sand within the expanse of the universe takes his breath away. The space rocks kissing down against their atmosphere is the closest they ever come to interacting with the ocean they are floating in.

“You’ve been so quiet Curly, what are you thinking about?” Louis asks in a soft voice that makes it so easy for Harry to answer without hesitation.

“Shooting stars, they kinda look like wishes being granted… or angles coming down to Earth, don’t they?” The words slip out of Harry before he has a chance to think twice about them, and when everyone remains silent for a long minuet afterwards he feels a blush prickle up the back of his neck. He thinks maybe they’ll start to tease him for such a childish thought, but then Louis’ hand reaches out to entwine their fingers, and Niall finally breaks the silence to murmur, “That was beautiful Hazza.”

“You know one of the only things I remember learning about stars, is that some of them are so far away that by the time the light reaches earth, the star it came from has already died.” Liam says quietly, with a hint of wonder in his voice.

“That’s sad. The star spent its entire life unseen.” Louis murmurs with a squeeze to Harry’s hand.

“Yea but what it left behind still reached people. That starlight traveled through the universe even after its body died, and found its way to Earth. That’s not sad… it’s kinda miraculous.” Harry replies, Louis squeezes his hand warmly and he’s answered with a few hums of appreciation followed by a fresh layer of silence.

A couple cars drive along the road they left behind, and Niall rips into a bag of candy, but otherwise the world around them is peaceful and still, and it almost feels like time is suspended. Like the world has frozen still, holding its breath while pieces of the galaxy that are usually so separate from Earth graze against it, burning alive for the chance at a single touch.

It’s sad, Harry realizes, that everything up there is meant to stay physically separate. The energy of their lights travels all across the universe but the physical structures remain solitary. Meteor rocks aren’t built to survive a kiss against the earth, and they burn up as they fall into the world’s gravity. Planets are eternally separated as the orbit individual paths around a dying sun. But everything is made up of the same cosmic energy as far as Harry is aware, atoms and molecules

“I read all these science articles when I looked up the meteor shower this morning and its weird you know, that like if you think about the big bang theory, energy expanded from one original energy source to create the universe.  Everything settled around just perfectly for solar systems and galaxies to form. We’re the only planet in this solar system that’s filled with life, but like theoretically or whatever, we came from the same energy source as the meteors that are falling through the sky right now. Everything out there came from the same energy source.”

Louis’ thumb and forefinger pinch at Harry’s knuckle, rolling the skin between his fingers for a little bit before smoothing his thumb along it. It’s a subconscious, fidgeting touch and Harry wonders what he’s thinking about.

“See when you put it like that there’s no way I can believe we’re the only life out there, I don’t care what anyone says, aliens are real and that’s that.” Niall mumbles through a mouthful of gummy worms.

“Well yea, there is other galaxies and other solar systems, so why wouldn’t there be other life?” Liam reasons.

“Trying to comprehend how huge the universe is out there… makes me feel small, I like it.” Harry murmurs softly. Another bout of silence follows Harry’s words and he wonders what’s put him in such a philosophical mood. He thinks maybe his thoughts are a little too deep and farfetched compared to their usual meaningless banter. Harry usually only lets his more serious internal ramblings slip out in front of Louis, and he’s just about to change the subject with Liam lets out a little chuckle.

“Really, Tommo?” He says randomly. Harry’s hand is pulled towards Louis’ body and he rolls away from Harry a little to look over at Liam.

“What?”

“Well I’m a bit disappointed you didn’t jump in there with a comment on how long, gangly Harold likes feeling like a tiny kitten.”

“Oh fuck off, Harry was sharing some serious thoughts just now.” Louis reprimands Liam before rolling back over to watch the sky.

“Well to be fair, your default reaction to a serious conversation is usually mockery.” Niall offers easily.

“Turns out you can both kindly fuck off because I wasn’t going to mock him. In fact, I was going to say something serious.” Louis answers haughtily. Harry’s eyebrows shoot up is surprise. It’s a rare treat for Louis to speak seriously without any real need to.

“Really? You’ve been quiet this whole time, let’s hear it then.” Liam’s voice is gentle and kind, like Louis is some kind of skittish animal when it comes to sharing his feelings with the group. He’s not wrong.

“I don’t like it, I don’t like how small the universe makes me feel.” Louis answers gently, and then offers no further explanation.

“No, I suppose you wouldn’t.” Liam says after a beat. “You hate feeling small, that’s why you’ve spent your whole life being as loud as possible, always soaking up attention anywhere you can get it… making sure all eyes are on you. Making sure you’re not forgotten.” Liam’s words settle heavy against Harry’s chest, and he has the odd impulse to snap at him, because it feels like he’s poking at old wounds that Louis has never shared with any of them.

“So what did you eat for dinner Payno, a psycology book? I don’t need you to explain to everyone why I don’t like feeling small, I can explain it just fine meself.” Niall and Liam both giggle at the exaggerated haughty tone of Louis’ voice, but Harry hears a defensiveness in there that prompts him to squeeze Louis’ hand.

“Oh really? Well if you’re so self-aware go ahead then, explain away.”

“Actually I don’t think I like the tone of your voice, I’ll not share my feelings with you and your judgment.” Louis is still speaking theatrically like he’s being playful, but Harry knows it’s his way of closing himself off from the conversation, so he tilts his head up and to left to catch sight of Louis’ dark profile.

“Please, Lou.” Although he can’t make out any details in the moonless night, Louis turns to look at Harry at the sound of his quiet plea.

“You’re doing your puppy-dog face aren’t you?” Louis murmurs, and it’s a sharp reminder of how upset Louis had been just an hour ago, but Louis grazes past it easily.

“Alright I suppose there’s no winning against the puppy-dog face.” Louis concedes, so Harry brushes away the memories of sadness and looks back up to the meteor shower, waiting for Louis to gather his thoughts.

“I dunno… thinking about how much more is out there, It’s like we’re all here in a race to survive, and along the way we hope we make a place for ourselves, make an impact on the people around us but… nothing I do will ever be significant in the grand scheme of things, will it? In the scope of the universe I might as well be non-existent; nothing I ever do will make a dent in this giant universe.”

“You never did like going unnoticed did you?” Niall assesses.

“Nope, I hate it. And if you start thinking beyond our solar system and our galaxy… it turns out there’s nothing noteworthy about me.” Harry frowns at Louis’ statement, finding it so untrue he almost laughs.

“That’s a bleak perspective on things Tommo.” Liam says casually.

“Hey I just tell it like I see it.” Louis shrugs.

“It’s funny, because I feel the exact opposite as you do.” Harry admits as he runs a hand through his curls.

“How’s that?”

"I like how small it makes me feel because… we’re a part of something bigger. Like, I’m weird, you know, I’m the oddball the quirky one and it’s all a good laugh most of the time, but… in my head there’s a lot about me that doesn’t fit in, that doesn’t match up to how a 16 year old boy is supposed to be.” Harry swallows hard, his mind flooded with all of the impulses and curiosities he keeps hidden away from himself.

“Haz-” Niall begins in a soothing tone, but Louis shushes him sharply.

“Just let him talk.” Louis murmurs, and without knowing why, Harry blushes. Maybe it’s the protective tone of Louis’ voice, or maybe it’s the knowledge that they’re all hanging onto his every word while he’s not even sure where he’s going with all of this.

“But if i pull back, and look at the bigger picture, I’m not all that different. I came from the same beginning as everyone else. My tiny spark of consciousness can’t be as weird as I make it out to be… I mean, the way I see it… We’re all made of stardust, aren’t we?” The words pour out of Harry easily as a shooting star rockets across the sky.

Abruptly, Louis rolls into Harry’s side and pokes his dimple, “You are made of stardust.” He whispers warmly against Harry’s cheek, and Harry’s stomach swoops pleasantly.

“That last line… that was, like, poetry Harry.” Liam compliments him, although the way he sounds genuinely shocked at the depth of Harry’s words is a bit insulting somehow.

“Zayn is gonna be so upset that he didn’t come tonight. He loves when Hazza gets all thoughtful and….metaphorical.” Niall praises with a pat to Harry’s wrist.

“When did he say that? This is the first time I’ve ever heard about it.” Louis asks with a possessive squeeze to Harry’s hand.

Harry doesn’t register any responses. There is a sense of connection seeping down from his chest to his toes like he’s never felt before. All of the confusion and insecurity that comes with being a teenager trickles out of him, and it’s replaced by an acute sense of connection, to his friends, to the earth, to the stars. All the ways he feels like he belongs settles warmly in his chest, and it’s like opening his eyes for the first time, seeing things from a perspective he never knew was there for the taking. Harry’s only ever noticed the things about himself that stand out, it feels like a revelation that all the raw, bare essentials of him are the same as all of the people he loves, and stars that are burning above.

 

The walk home his long, but Harry feels loose limbed and relaxed as he stumbles along next to his friends, and he listens with a smile as they gush about the upcoming trip to the coast. Louis’ arm is around his waist and Niall’s laughter is in his ear, and it feels like the night sky and the sleeping town, are all an audience for their bright voices and drumming footsteps. Even after Liam and Niall head their separate way, the silence he shares with Louis makes him feel warm and content and lighter than air. It only takes the sight of their two houses to remind Harry of the sad start to their evening, and a spark of protectiveness zips through him. The impulse to keep Louis happy and stress free is one he doesn’t fight against, and as Louis’ shoulders tense beneath Harry’s arm he makes a snap decision.

“Come to mine.” Harry says.

He grabs Louis’ hand without waiting for an answer and guides him to the front door of his perfect suburban home. His brain swirls with the oddity of Louis spending the night at his house. It has happened on occasion, but somehow over the years Louis’ room has become something of a hideout for the two of them, and although Harry’s house is just as well equipped, and just across the street, it doesn’t hold the same safe, homey feel that Harry associates with Louis’ room. Harry’s house is arguable a better hangout for two teenage boys, its parentless more often than not during the summer, and Harry has free reign to all the junk food and late night television he wants, since his sister moved out for uni last year.

They leave Louis’ football on the stoop before Harry unlocks his front door and then tucks his key back into his pocket. He pulls Louis inside and keeps ahold of his hand as he navigates the rooms without switching on any lights. The house is silent and still, tidy and well organized with no object out of its designated area to trip on in the darkness. Harry thinks he would prefer the chaos of Louis’ household any day. He likes the disheveled shoe rack near the front door, and the toys that overflow into the hallway from Phoebe and Daisy’s room. He likes the sounds of the girls all waking early in the morning, bickering over what they want for breakfast or singing along to the morning cartoons.

“Your mom and Robin are still gone on holiday?” Louis whispers. His hand is warm where its tangled with Harry’s, and his voice is warm as he speaks.

“Yea, they’ll be back by the weekend.” Harry answers and he makes his way to the end of a hallway where his bedroom in located.

“But aren’t you going to your Dad’s this weekend?”

“Yea.” Harry says as he pushes open his bedroom door. Louis makes a disapproving kind of hum and Harry bends down to plug in the fairy lights he’s got strung along the edges of his ceiling.

“They’ve not seen you much this summer.” Louis comments as he plops down onto Harry’s bed, and he’s still got a disapproving tone in his voice. Louis lays back on the bed with his legs still hanging off the edge. The fairy lights have blanketed the room in a dim, golden glow, and Louis looks soft and shimmery against Harry’s dark sheets.

“Yea well, they were gone a lot last summer too, so I’m used to it.” Harry walks up to Louis and flashes a dimpled smile before droping down in front of his dangling legs. He sits down cross-legged and starts untying the knots in Louis’ shoelaces.

“Yea. But you had Gemma here with you last summer.” Louis insists. Harry focuses on the stubborn knot beneath his fingers instead of the sadness Louis is poking at with his words.

“Why do you think I’ve been spending so many nights at yours?” Harry answers as casually as he can. His nerves stand on end as he waits for Louis to reply, hoping he will drop the subject. His fingers continue fumbling to untie louis’ shoes properly.

“Hazza.” Louis says, and Harry’s stomach flip flops at the softness of his voice. Just as Harry’s succeeding in untangling Louis’ shoelace Louis toes off both of his shoes impatiently and sits up.

“Why didn’t you say something to me?” Louis asks. His blue eyes look down at Harry with worry.

“I don’t need to say anything. I just crawl into your window and sleep in your bed when i need to. No talking necessary.” Harry climbs to his feet, limbs searching for something to do while he’s under Louis’ scrutiny. He picks up Louis’ forgotten converse and walks them over to the closet.

“Besides you knew my parents left the first week of summer.” Harry stares down at his own shoes determinedly as he toes them off.

“Yea but I wasn’t really thinking about how this house has been fucking _empty_. If you would have just said something I wouldn’t have made all those jokes about you stay at mine so many nights. Wouldn’t have given you a hard time.” Harry unbuttons his jeans as Louis talks. There’s an unpleasant emotion scratching at the back of his eyelids that he’s trying to ignore.

“It’s not a big deal Lou, seriously.”

"Yea it is, I feel like shit. You hate being on your own for so long, even when your sister was here you hated it.”

Harry huffs out a breath and yanks his jeans down and off of his ankles, Louis continues talking.

“I’ve had my head so far up my own ass this summer. Next time just spell it out for me Harry. You should’ve been staying at mine every night.” Harry pulls off his shirt and slips into some pajama pants, the uncomfortable emotion scraping more insistently at his eyelids.

“Louis. Its ok.” Harry insists again, and he turns to face Louis with his prettiest smile on. Louis’ tilts his head and frowns at him, not buying it for a second. He gets up from the bed with golden light haloing down against his body, and walks over to Harry still frowning.

“This house has been lonely, huh?” Louis asks before he stands on his toes and pulls Harry into a hug. Harry folds into him and forces out a laugh. Louis had named the uncomfortable feeling behind Harry’s eyes. Loneliness. He really does hate being on his own. Harry wraps himself around Louis and lets out a genuine chuckle when Louis bites down on his shoulder.

“Bad Harry!” Louis scolds playfully. “You’re a shit friend for not telling me when I’m being a shit friend. You have to tell me when I’m neglecting you.”

“Actually, you’re the only person in my life _not_ neglecting me.” Harry says lightly, laughing at the irony. But Louis’ muscles freeze against Harry and he doesn’t laugh.

“Shit. Did I get to real with that joke?” Harry mumbles into Louis’ ear.

“That was the saddest joke I’ve ever heard, Harry. Like genuinely sad. It made me sad.”

“Don’t be sad. I have you here tonight. I’m not neglected.” Harry rushes to reassure him.

“C’mon, let’s go brush our teeth before you make me cry. Bloody terrible, terrible jokes.”

Harry ends up brushing his teeth while Louis digs through his drawers for the old t-shirt that he loves, and by the time Louis is dressed for bed it’s nearly four in the morning. Louis jumps up onto the counter next to the sink, and as he brushes his teeth Harry bends over to pillow his head against Louis’ warm thigh, arms holding Louis’ hips in a loose embrace, not caring if he ends up with toothpaste in his hair. Louis’ fingers sift through his curls lazily, and he jostles Harry every time he twists to the side to spit, but it’s still comforting enough to lull Harry’s mind into wandering. When Louis finally fills a small cup with water to rinse his mouth, Harry’s thoughts are circling back to the memory of Louis’ tear rimmed eyes, and he’s too tired to keep himself from asking. He straightens up and leans into the space between Louis’ legs.

“Are you going to tell me what happened earlier?” Harry asks softly.

Louis searches his face silently for a few minutes, and Harry keeps his eyes open and honest, hoping to convey support and patients. Finally Louis sighs and cards his fingers through Harry’s curls again, looking like he’s made a decision about something.

“Yes.” Louis answers simply. “But not tonight.” Harry nods, and gives him a small smile. It’s late, and if Louis’ wants to wait to talk, Harry can handle that.

“Okay.” Harry accepts, easily. Then Louis locks his legs around Harry’s torso and wraps his arms around Harry’s neck.

“Now take us to bed, you look exhausted.” Louis exclaims. Harry grins and grabs hold of the back of Louis’ thighs before lifting him off of the countertop.

“I’ll do anything you ask as long as it means I get a handful of your bum.” Harry promises smugly and then moves his hands backwards to prove his point. Louis yelps in surprise and pinches Harry’s nipple.

“Always so cheeky, Harold.” Louis admonishes.

“Not as CHEEKY as you.” Harry retorts with a squeeze to each of Louis bum cheeks. Harry cackles wildly at his own joke as Louis groans in despair.

“That’s it. Put me down. Your jokes are terrible and you’re officially cut off.” Louis declares.

“Nope not a chance, you’re stuck like this for the rest of the night, cuddle bunny.” Harry announces as he reaches the edge of his bed. Louis groans in agony at the nickname and then proceeds to tickle Harry until they’re both falling down onto the bed, laughing through tears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really wanted to solidify the kind of tactile, emotional reliance Harry and Louis have with each other, but now the time has finally come: The next chapter will see some major changes between Harry and Louis! It is 80% complete so I hope to have it up by Friday, please leave comments and kudos, they mean a lot to me as a new author :)


	4. Runaway

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I am equal parts excited and nervous for this chapter, but I am very proud of how it came out :) This chapter centers entirely around Harry and Louis. Thank you for reading, Enjoy!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings for this chapter include crappy parenting, emotional manipulation, and vague references to homophobia. Though all of the events involving the trigger warnings are implied, and not expressed in detail.

Harry slips out of a cab on wobbly knees, waving as the vehicle pulls away from the curb before disappearing down the street. He regrets his request to be dropped off a few doors down from home because it’s raining again. There is no storm this time, just a quiet summer rain, but still it feels cold against his face and hands, and he doesn’t want to stick around for any sobering effects it might bring.

Harry ducks his head and strides quickly up the sidewalk. His body feels unbalanced as his dampening curls sway in front of his vision in the dim light of the street lamps. Without sparing his own home even a lingering glance, he makes a b-line for Louis’ bedroom window, stumbling over his own feet in the steady shower of rain. The taste of liquor is warm in his throat but there is a cold grip of sadness down in his stomach, an icy frustration that just won’t relent, and he knows that he just needs Louis. He needs his bed and his hands, his teasing smirk and his chiming laughter.

Harry's feels a wave of relief as he approaches Louis’ cracked window, shining gold with the glow of Louis’ bedside lamp. His clothes are already soaked through as he opens the window and pulls himself inside. His head spins from the sudden movement and his body sways as the room slowly refocuses. Harry searches around for blue eyes and caramel skin until finally there Louis is, looking warm and soft, and all of the things Harry is not right now.

Louis’ eyebrows pinch in as he catches sight of Harry and crosses the room, and as soon as he’s within reach Harry wraps his drenched body around him. A shiver trembles out of Harry’s fingertips and into Louis’ back where Harry is holding him. Harry feels dizzy and sloshy and a little sleepy. He has drank his way past a pleasant buzz, but not far enough into drunk to feel good and silly. He is caught in between, drunk enough to feel fizzy and swirly, but sober enough to remember why he feels sad.

“Harry William Styles, aren’t you meant to be somewhere else tonight?” At the sound of Louis’ words a choppy giggle falls out of Harry’s lips and into the skin of Louis’ neck.

“William is your middle name, not mine.”

“Harold, we have discussed this, if you explain the logicality of a joke you are actually taking away its humor.” Louis chastises with a fond lilt to his words, and Harry pulls away to look at his best friend.

Louis is soft. His hair is soft and un-styled, his sweats are soft and lose, his eyes are soft and sparkling, but there is still a worried pinch to his eyebrows. Another shiver wracks through Harry’s muscles and he leans against the wall behind him as it passes through his body. Harry’s eyes glance down to see a puddle of rainwater collecting on the carpet under his feet. Louis’ hands are on him then, touching his cheeks and neck before resting against his shoulders.

“How much have you had to drink then, Love?”

Harry’s bleary eyes shift around Louis’ pretty face until they find his bright blue eyes. He latches onto them and feels the world stop tilting so severely. He reaches his hand out and drags it along Louis’ stubble. It’s scratchy and rough and shivers warmly through Harry’s body.

“Mmm. I’ve been in a cab for an hour Louis.” Harry whines.

“You took a cab here, babe? What happened at your dad’s?” Harry drags his fingertips slowly through Louis’ stubble, down the dip of his jawline onto smooth tan skin, watching the bob of Louis’ Adam’s apple when he swallows. His fingers travel slowly down each side of Louis’ neck, the skin is soft and silky and Harry feels warm with Louis’ skin beneath his touch.

“Harry?” Louis’ soft voice pulls Harry from his trance and his sloshy brain remembers that Louis had asked him a question. He had asked him about his dad but he doesn’t want to talk about that. Harry drops his hands to his sides and glances down to his soggy boots.

“I’m cold, Lou.” Harry mumbles. He pulls a small bottle of vodka out of his back pocket, knowing the harsh drink will warm him right up.

“No ya don’t.” Louis’ nimble fingers pluck the bottle from Harry and then he turns and walks into the connecting bathroom. Harry knows he’s pouring the vodka down the drain and he lets a pout settle on his features.

He’s quite cold, he realizes. His hands and teeth are trembling now that Louis warm body is so far away.

“That was keeping me warm and happy, Louis.” Harry pouts. Louis saunters back into Harry’s personal space with a turquoise towel in his hands.

“Dunno if you’ve realized it yet or not, but you are neither warm, nor happy.” Louis levels him with an unimpressed look and Harry’s traitorous body trembles against the wall, right on cue.

“So obviously you don’t want to talk about what happened with your dad.” Louis says. Harry shakes his head no, and the room takes a couple seconds to lock back into place around him.

“Do you mind if I take a guess?” Louis asks cheerfully. Harry shakes his head no again.

Louis reaches up with the corner of the towel in his hand and presses it softly against Harry’s cheek, dragging it slowly and carefully against the rainwater clinging to Harry’s skin. Harry leans more heavily against the wall and closes his eyes and Louis taps his hand against Harry’s thigh. He opens his legs to let Louis step in between them.

“You were supposed to stay all weekend and you barely lasted 8 hours.” Louis muses gently. The soft towel shifts to the other side of Harry’s face and he tips his head to the side to give Louis better access.

 “Your father must have said something unkind or insulting, but between the two of us that was bound to happen.” Harry feels Louis’ body brush against his lap and he latches his hands onto Louis’ hips, feeling suddenly dizzy. Louis rises onto his tiptoes to drape the towel over Harry’s wet hair and Harry flicks his eyes open. Louis is so close, all sharp jawline and pink lips and bare chest. Harry shivers.

“I think it must have been more than the usual douchery for you to storm out of the house without calling me or your mom to come get you.” Louis puzzles out the details of Harry’s evening as he drags the towel against Harry’s mop of curls. It feels soothing, to have Louis taking care of him. Louis scrubs the towel against Harry’s curls one last time before draping it around his own bare shoulders and dropping down onto flat feet.

“I know you don’t have enough money for an hour long cab ride on you, and I know you don’t carry vodka on your person, even for a weekend at your dad’s.” Harry finds Louis’ sparkling eyes, he looks amused, proud, so Harry knows he’s figured out what had happened. Harry still has Louis in between his legs, with his hands holding to his hips, and when Louis reaches up to start unbuttoning his drenched silk shirt Harry’s stomach flutters with curious butterflies.

“So I think you and your dad got into quite a bad argument.” Louis undoes the top two buttons of Harry’s shirt. His eye lashes are thick and dark against his cheeks and Harry wants to touch them.

“I think you ran upstairs, past your bedroom and into your dad’s study.” Louis continues. Two more buttons open up on Harry’s shirt and he feels another stir of butterflies as Louis’ warm breath falls across the wet skin of his chest.

“I think you took the hidden stash of vodka from the bottom drawer of your father’s desk,” Harry’s shirt is unbuttoned to his navel now. Louis electric eyes flicker up to Harry’s and then back down to his working fingers.

“And then you took the stash of money hidden in your dad’s bible.” Harry’s shirt falls fully open and Louis looks up at him. Harry’s stomach twists with a heat that he has long since learned to ignore, and then Louis’ fingers slip under the collar on either side of Harry’s neck and he begins pushing the wet fabric off of his body.

“You walked outside without saying goodbye, without your luggage. You called a cab with the cellphone in your back pocket and gave them my address.” Louis finishes up. He is correct about it all. Harry shifts up and off of the wall, giving Louis room to remove the silk shirt from his body and drop it to the floor at their feet.

“Yep,” Is all Harry can manage. He feels hot and cold from Louis undressing him, and the alcohol in his blood stream. He feels sad about his douche of a father and so so happy to have his best friend. He is all contradictions tonight.

The turquoise towel is back and brushing softly against his stomach, his nipples, his collarbones. His body is alight with all the ways Louis is moving the towel along his skin so slowly and softly. Taking care of him in a way no one else ever does anymore.

“I’m sorry for whatever he said to you, Hazza.” Louis voice is so quiet all of the sudden. And Harry looks down to find Louis watching him carefully. He eyes are swirling with a combination of emotions Harry can’t pin down in his alcohol riddled mind. He brings his hand up to Louis’ jawline again and swallows down against the memories of his dad’s words.

“I love you, Lou.” Harry whispered into the inches between them, because it’s the only thing his brain is willing to focus on for some reason. Harry skims his fingers across Louis’ jawline slowly, his eyes following the reverent touch, and some part of him knows he’s allowing himself too soft of a touch, too long of a touch, but he can’t seem to stop himself.

“I love you too.” Louis whispers back. And then he’s pulling away, and pulling Harry out of his muddled desires. Louis takes the few steps back and Harry can’t stop his word vomit.

“Nobody loves me the way you do Lou, if everyone else knew all my faults the way you do… you’re all I’d be left with.” Harry feels himself cracking under the memories of what had happened hours ago, and he tries so hard to swallow his tongue, to stop more words from flowing out and breaking his own heart. But then Louis hands are firm on his face, lifting his watery gaze off of the ground and up to sky blue eyes.

“Me too.” Louis says softly before he’s touching his lips to Harry’s temple, soft and slow. Pressing reassurances into Harry’s skin.

“You’re all I would have too.” Louis whispers into Harry’s ear. Harry’s heart trembles with how much he needs Louis, how lucky he is to have one person who knows him so completely, who loves even the ugly parts of him. His breath stutters and his hands shake.

“I’m sorry I showed up like this. Drunk. I’m sorry.” Harry’s brain feels foggy and unresponsive, disconnected from all of the emotional impulses clogging his throat and trembling in his chest. He drops his forehead against Louis’ and swallows hard, tying to gain some control over himself.

“You can always come here, no matter what.” Louis whispers and Harry drops his lips to Louis’ cheek once, twice; sniffling at little at the memories of harsh words and disgusted eyes.

“What happened, babe?” Louis’ voice sounds sad and desperate and he keeps using that pretty word ‘babe’, a word he only uses when Harry needs him to be soft and soothing. But Harry can’t answer his questions. He doesn’t want to think about his sadness, so he hooks tighter to his anchor. To Louis.

“Thank you for always letting me come here.” Harry whispers before kissing down Louis’ cheek and jaw. He presses his lips, slow and gentle, against Louis’ neck as a frantic sadness shivers in his throat.

Harry knows he needs to focus on something beautiful and bright. He needs to focus on Louis. He presses his face into the warmth of Louis’ neck, burying himself in that soft crook of skin so that he is surrounded by Louis, warm and safe and hidden. He brushes his lips against Louis’ throat, and kisses his open mouth to it. He takes the sweet flesh between his teeth and bites down ever so softly. Warm butterflies curl into his stomach at the taste of Louis on his tongue and Louis’ hips jolt against his. Harry bites a touch harder and hums at Louis’ bodily response. He lets the skin drop from his teeth and kisses the bite better, Feeling dizzy and heady and good.

“Harry…” Louis’ raw, raspy voice is like a slap back to reality, sobering Harry fractionally, and his stomach turns over on itself as he realizes he’s taken more from Louis than he usually does. But instead of pulling away Louis presses himself closer to Harry. He presses Harry against the wall and aligns their chest and hips, and then cards his fingers into Harry’s curls.

“Harry. Baby.” Louis’ voice is warm and rough as he whispers to him, and that one word, ‘baby’, brings tears to Harry’s eyes instantly. It’s a term of endearment Louis only ever uses when Harry is feeling his worst. Louis tugs Harry out of his neck and looks at him with pleading eyes.

“What the fuck did he say to you? Tell me what he did.” Louis whispers. His eyes are gleaming with sympathy and worry and Harry suddenly feels exhausted.

“He’s gonna try to make me spend the summer with him.” Harry answers. Louis’ hands are still in his hair, gentle and soothing.

“That’s… that’s shit. But that’s not what’s got you so upset.” Louis’ eyes search Harry’s and his throat burns with the memories Louis wants him to share. Harry shakes his head no, frantically. He can’t talk about it. He feels like it will split him open if he does. Louis’ eyes soften with understanding and his hands move out of Harry’s curls. One drops down to thread his fingers through Harry’s and the other presses soft fingertips into Harry’s furrowed brow, smoothing away his worry lines.

“I’m sorry.” Harry mumbles, forcing himself to hold Louis’ gaze. “Sorry for…” Harry reaches his thumb up and pushes it into the pink bite mark on the curve of Louis’ neck. Louis’ eyes flutter beautifully and Harry’s body warms with a blush.

“It’s ok Hazza.” Louis’ smile is fragile, but his eyes shine as bright as they always do and Harry knows he’s forgiven.

“Let’s get these jeans and boots off. I’ll get some dry clothes and then text your mom. Tell her you’re over here.”

“After that can we get in bed? And then… I’ll tell you what happened tonight?” Harry squeezes Louis’ hand gently, feeling him squeezes back without hesitance.

“Of course, Love.”

Louis sets a pair of Harry’s sweats and a generic black t-shirt on the bathroom sink before guiding Harry into the conjoining room, and Harry begins feeling apprehensive, sick to his stomach at the thought of having to relive the scene he left behind at his father’s house. Soft hands press into his shoulders as Louis sits him down on the closed toilet seat and kneels in front of him. He removes Harry’s boots and socks with soothing hands and a concerned gleam in his eyes, then he leaves Harry alone to pull off his wet slacks and redress himself.

 After a solid five minutes of clumsy undressing, Harry reenters Louis’ bedroom in warm dry clothes. Louis is sitting at the edge of his bed, pinching his bottom lip between his fingers as he stares at the floor. When he catches sight of Harry he stands up and motions for Harry to take a seat on the bed.

“You know, the more I think about you taking an hour long cab ride at night, without telling anyone not even me, the more upset I’m getting. That cabby could have been a creep, and you were drinking! He could have been a bloody serial killer! So, I need you to start talking.” Louis has taken on his no-nonsense posture, arms crossed, eye brows raised, voice firm, and Harry scurries over to sit on the bed without argument, feeling a flare of regret for the way he had ran out into the night without notifying anyone.

“Lou you don’t understand I wasn’t in my right frame of mind. I didn’t leave over a simple argument-

“-I know, Harry.” Louis interrupts, “I know something serious happened. You’ve been one step away from crying since you got here. Just… talk to me, please.” He steps forward and all of the tension leaves his body as he pleads with Harry.

 “Okay just… let me start from the beginning.”

Harry stares resolutely at the ground for a couple second, collecting his thoughts and trying his hardest to control his emotions. He feels so anxious and upset that he considers, for one desperate moment, bolting from Louis’ room and running to one of the other boys’ houses. It would be so much easier to hide away with one of them, because they don’t have the skillset to persuade Harry’s secrets out of him. But Louis is who he wants right now, so he takes a deep breath and looks up to Louis’ expectant gaze.

“My dad asked me to help him close a deal tonight. Turns out he arranged a business dinner for the one weekend that was meant to be mine this summer.”

“Since when are you a part of his business deals? Is that what your fancy silk shirt was for?” Louis asks with a touch of condescension.

“yea.” Harry closes his eyes to calm himself, and scoots back to sit in the center of Louis’ bed.

There’s a sharp pain building in his temples as the impending conversation steals away any pleasant buzz and leaves him with an alcoholic headache. He still feels dizzy and off center, but now he finds the unbalance irritating instead of amusing. Harry opens his eyes to find Louis where he’s standing at the foot of the bed, hip cocked and arms crossed. His eyes are watching Harry closely, waiting for the details behind his drunken cab ride.

“I told him I wouldn’t be a part of his business deal and he just… went off on me.”

Louis brushes his fingers through his fringe and shifts his weight to his other hip. He looks like he’s trying to contain his impatience. Harry feels nausea rise up his throat with the memories of his father’s frustration.

“What do you mean he ‘went off’? What’d he say to you, Haz?” Louis’ lithe body climbs onto the bed and he sits cross legged right in front of Harry. Harry avoids his gaze, staring hard at Louis’ crossed ankles as his cheeks burn with embarrassment. He takes ahold of a bit of Louis’ sweats and starts rolling it between his fingers.

“He said… I’m naïve. That I don’t have what it takes to be successful in the real world. He said that I need to spend the summer with him because the people around me aren’t preparing me for adulthood.” Harry swallows hard. Now that he’s confided this much to Louis, he’s finding it hard to stop. He needs to know, if anything his father had said was true.

“He told me that… because of, erm… what I refused to do… there was something wrong with me…” Harry keeps his eyes down, words tumbling of him, disjointed and frantic.

“He said that I’ve been around my mother and my sister for too long, and I need a more masculine adult figure.” Harry’s voice breaks a little on the word masculine, and another flash of embarrassment heats his neck and ears. He stares resolutely at Louis’ ankles and tries to ignore the alcohol curling in his stomach, the shame heating his face. Louis is silent, like he knows Harry needs to divulge everything without interruption.

“He said they, and you, are indulging the… the wrong parts of me. That he sees the skinny jeans and the girlie bracelets… That he sees my long hair and my pink slippers and that my… identity issues… have been indulged for too long.” Harry feels tears stinging behind his eyes and he bites hard at his lip to hold them in.

“Harry-

“He said that someone has got to teach me to grow up, because I’m too soft and too gentle. And I’m not man enough to live up to the Styles name. He-”

Louis leans over and pulls Harry into a tight hug, cutting off Harry’s desperate confession and Harry feels his chest shudder with the pressure to cry. The memories of what his father was implying, and the opinions he had about certain parts of him, makes him want to run away again. He’s so tired, sad and confused. He just wants to forget everything that happened tonight.

“Fuck him! There is nothing wrong with you, nothing.” Louis practically growls. “Why the fuck would he say all of that to you? He doesn’t get to have an opinion on you, he’s never around! And all of that was over a business dinner? …I don’t understand.” Louis pulls back and looks into Harry’s eyes, and Harry struggles to meet his gaze.

“What aren’t you telling me Harry?” Harry flicks his eyes up to the ceiling and blinks rapidly. A fresh wave of shame swallows him up and he isn’t sure if he’s ashamed of himself or of his father.

“Harry, I’m serious. Tell me what you’re hiding.” Louis voice is firm and Harry forces his eyes to lock with Louis’. There is a deep frown etched into his features that persuades honesty out of Harry immediately.

“The business associate we were supposed to have dinner with, he’s had his daughter with him over to the house a handful of times before. My dad told me she had shown a lot of… interest… in the pictures of me around the house.” Harry stutters awkwardly, watching as Louis’ blue eyes narrow and his lips purse.

“Dad told me she was going to be there tonight and he asked me to… entertain her. He said she had made it clear that if the two of us were given some time together, she could get her father to agree to any contract.” Harry lays it all out as subtly as he can, hoping Louis will catch on. He bites down on his lower lip as a flush of embarrassment heats his face.

“He set you up on a date to close a deal?” Louis’ face scrunches up in disgust and Harry wrings his hands together in his lap and forces out a final confession.

“No. He slipped a condom into my hand and told me that if I spent a couple hours in the guest house with her that he would buy me a new car for my birthday.” Harry’s ears roar with the sound of his own heart beat as the reasoning for the entire night’s drama is finally revealed. And saying it out loud to someone makes his father’s proposition feel even more disgusting. Before Harry can will away the nervous tremble in his chest Louis is up and off the bed. He stands stock still with his hands covering his face taking deep, angry breaths.

“I said no!” Harry rushes out, feeling an overwhelming need to defend himself to Louis, to assure him that he would never agree to anything like that.

“I refused and he threw a fit, said all that stuff about me being naïve and confused. He said any normal teenage boy would be glad to have her.” Harry’s hands are shaking, and his brain is heavy with vodka and a twisting panic to prove he didn’t agree to his fathers’ proposition. But even through Harry’s desperate explanation Louis stays perfectly still with his face in his hands, his breathing harsh and loud.

“I left! He said all those things about me, then threatened to take me away for the summer and I left straight away.” The words tumble out of Harry as he shimmies over to the edge of the bed, desperate to pull Louis back into him, but Louis steps backwards at the sound of Harry’s movement.

“Just give me a minuet. One minuet.” Louis murmurs in a flat voice. And it’s been so long since Louis has evaded Harry’s touch that it almost feels like a slap to the face on top of everything.

Harry scoots back to the center of the bed with a lump in his throat and his eyes burning. He folds his knees up to his face, taking a calming breath as his brain screams that he should have kept quiet. He knew he shouldn’t have told anyone, he should have kept it to himself.

“Harry.” Harry snaps his eyes up to find Louis with his hands at his sides and his jaw clenched.

“You are beautiful. You are soft and gentle, and there is nothing wrong with that. And I swear we will get into that more because I see… I see that what your father said about you is tearing you up inside, but first…” Louis walks over and knees onto the bed. He settles just in front of Harry and pulls their foreheads together. Louis looks upset, his every feature possessed by frustration.

“You are 16 years old and your father asked you to use your body to make him money? Today? He asked you to sell yourself for him today?” Louis’ voice sounds so appalled that Harry feels tears tremor up his throat and he closes his eyes as they spill over onto his cheeks. Hearing it phrased like that, and realizing what his father had tried to use him for, it all hits him so suddenly. Too much has happened in the past few hours.

“I will fucking kill him. I will kill him.” Louis growls. “You never give your body to anyone unless you both want it, and never for any reason other than that, understand?” Louis presses his forehead more firmly to Harry’s and Harry shakes his head yes.

“I don’t give a shit about being a man or living up to the family name. That’s not what sex is about. He is wrong Harry, do you hear me?” Harry nods again as Louis beings to fume.

“Everything he said about you…” Louis takes a heavy breath. There is a long silent pause as a few tears slip from Harry’s closed eyes. His stomach feels so knotted he wants to curl in on himself. He should have never drank after such a terrible argument.

 “Everything he said about you was manipulation.” Louis words rush out of him like he’s surprised at the conclusion he’s just come to, and Harry finally flutters his eyes open. Louis’ hands are shaking as they touch softly against Harry’s shoulders. His eyes are angry and sad as they fill with realization.

“He tore you apart to get you to prove him wrong. He said all that stuff about you being too feminine to corner you into having sex with that girl. So that he could get his fucking money. It was all manipulation.” Louis’ breath comes out rattled and shallow, as he shakes his head in disgust. Harry doesn’t have it in him to argue, but he knows his father’s opinions of him were more than just manipulation, they were genuine.

“We are telling your mom first thing in the morning, yea? I won’t let him get away with this, I swear.” Louis’ thumbs brush away Harry’s stray tears and Harry closes his eyes again, feeling hollow and betrayed, and somehow still feeling like he’s the one that’s done something wrong.

“God, why am I crying? Fathers do this stuff all the time right? They take their sons to strip clubs and pat them on the back when they hook up with girls. Why did it all feel so wrong to me? Why am I so different?” Harry grits out, frustration and helplessness burrowing deep down in his chest.

"Harry, are you repeating his words back to me right now? Because what your father did was so much more than give you sex advice or have some creepy level of interest in your hook ups." Louis sits back and holds Harry's gaze firmly.

"Your father is a rich, entitled asshole who tried to use you as a tool in his business dealings. Don’t try to excuse it away like he did. He made you feel BADLY about yourself because you didn’t want to participate in a fucking sex-trade, basically! What kind of low life does that to their child…” Louis breaks off to take a harsh breath, teeth biting at the inside of his cheek as he seems to hold back the rest of his rant.

Harry is a mess of ugly emotions. He knows Louis is right and his father was wrong, but everything that was shouted at him is curling up in his stomach, hot and unpleasant, as bitter as the alcohol he had poured into his body in an effort to forget the entire evening.

“So, why do I feel…” Harry searches for the right word for a moment, “ashamed?” He finally whispers. Harry closes his eyes as more tears gather behind them, and then Louis’ warm body is pressing into him. Harry keeps his eyes closed as Louis lays him back against the bed, and then crawls on top of him, blanketing him in Louis’ familiar weight as he presses into his hips, stomach and chest, warming him up from the outside in.

“Please don’t feel that way. You were perfect. You did everything perfect, Love. I’m so glad you came home when you did.” Louis whispers in a soft voice, and Harry doesn’t correct his definition of ‘home’. He is home, here in Louis’ bed, beneath Louis’ touch and whispers. He is safe and loved and he knows Louis will take care of him. Harry tries to immerse himself in the comfort Louis is offering, and he rubs his hands down Louis’ bare back slowly, feeling warm skin beneath his fingertips, smooth and endless as Louis’ soft fingers swipe across his tear trails.

“Let’s just forget about it for tonight. I need to forget about it or I’m going to drive down there and burn his house down.” Louis is whispering against Harry’s cheek, his forearms resting on each side of Harry’s head to keep him up. There is not a trace of humor in his voice.

“Harry, You know seeing you cry makes me cry… please don’t cry anymore” Louis’ voice is kind and gentle and his lips brush against Harry’s cheek. Harry hadn’t realized tears had started slipping down his cheeks silently. He feels overwhelmed by everything that happened tonight, ashamed of his father, and ashamed of himself for some reason.

Louis takes a deep breath and scrapes his nails softly against Harry’s scalp, effectively distracting him for just a second.

“I feel nauseous thinking about what he did, and the things he said.” Louis whispers, his voice sounding solemn. “He will never see you again if i have anything to do with it.”

"You were right… what kind of parent would do that to a child they love? They wouldn’t- he doesn’t… like…” Harry swallows his words, at a loss, afraid to speak his thoughts out loud.

Louis pulls back to find his eyes and Harry stares at him helplessly, his throat clogged with a gross revelation. Louis’ blue eyes shimmer down at him, clouded with sympathy and anger.

“He said things to me, like… He used slurs.” Harry whispers, his voice breaking as he reveals the moment that is screaming loudest in his head. And he knows so much more should be shouting out at him, but of all the things his father said and did just hours ago, the slurs he shouted at Harry like accusations, are what hurts the most somehow. His father was upset about so much more than the failed contract.

“Don’t think about that…It’s ok babe.” Louis soothes, but his voice sounds delicate and shaky, and Harry knows he understands all of the things that Harry can’t say yet. “None of his hatred is worth your tears, I promise.” There is such a striking depth of sadness in Louis’ eyes that Harry finds it hard to look away for a moment.

“I’ve always been an inconvenience to him…” Harry grits out before slipping his eyes shut.

“I don’t think he loves me Louis. How could he ask that of me if he loves me? How could say those words?” Harry’s heart pounds miserably, but he feels almost numb, empty.

 There are shivering, moist puffs of air dropping down against Harry’s lips and chin as Louis seems to struggle to stay collected and calm. Harry keeps his eyes closed, afraid to see Louis agree with such a terrible thought, but Louis doesn’t move or speak for a couple long minuets, and all Harry can hear is Louis’ unsteady breath. Then soft, smooth lips press down too Harrys mouth and his breath is kicked out of him. Louis kisses him. It’s just a soft, lingering press of lips on lips. The kiss is fleeting and chaste but is wipes away the rejection of his father. It chars away the sadness and insecurity. That single, intimate touch sends a wave of acceptance and affection through every inch of his body, chasing away every ugly self-doubt so suddenly that he’s almost ready to cry again.

“I do. I love you, Harry.” Louis speaks the words right above Harry’s lips, his breath brushing electricity into Harry.

Strangely, there is no panic or uncertainty, there is only Harry’s limbs filled to the brim with a surge of desire, a surge or wanting that overrides all other train of thought. Before he can stop himself Harry lifts up to kiss Louis again and Louis falls into him easily. The kiss is soft and gentle and it aches in Harry’s chest. It twists in his stomach and lights him up everywhere Louis’ body is pressing into him. Louis pulls away softly, slowly, and Harry follows his lips up until Louis’ back is arched gorgeously beneath his hands.

The kiss breaks gently, and with closed eyes Harry relaxes back down to the bed. His pulse is pounding in his ears, his lips still tingling with the touch of Louis’. Everything feels suddenly slow and heavy, like floating underwater, or wandering through fog. Harry flutters his eyes open. Louis’ eyes shine down on him, bright and electric, a clear beacon pulling Harry out of the dense fog in his mind, or perhaps guiding him further into it.

Louis’ fingers touch softly against the sides of his neck, searing fingerprints into his skin, dripping fire into his veins. Louis’ hips and stomach are pressed firmly against Harry’s, and every nerve in his body feels like it’s frozen in place, balanced precariously on an edge, just waiting for a gentle nudge to free fall. Harry’s eyes flicker down to Louis’ mouth and he watches with bated breath as Louis’ tongue slips out to run along the seam of his full bottom lip. Curiosity prickles across Harry’s skin like a heat wave, intrigue twitching in his fingertips, curling at the base of his spine.

“Hazza…” Louis whispers, but he doesn’t apologized for the kiss or try to backtrack, he doesn’t make excuses for it and he hasn’t moves and inch of his gorgeous body from where it’s draped atop Harry. It takes a moment for Harry to realize that Louis is staring dazedly at Harry’s mouth, and another warm wave of curiosity flushes up his neck and shudders in his lungs.

“Harry.” Louis whispers again. His blue eyes connect with Harry’s green ones, and pull Harry away from his own body, away from any sadness or worries or consequences. They pull him into a delicious fog of Louis’ bare skin beneath his fingers, Louis’ body draped over every inch of his own, Louis' warm breath whispering his name.

Harry touches a single finger beneath Louis’ chin and guides his lips down, down, down, until his nose touches Harry’s. A hot, shaky breath falls from Louis’ lips and Harry tips his head back, arching his neck just enough to brush his lips against Louis’. The touch is fleeting and gentle. Harry’s eyes slip closed and his toes curl against a rush of adrenaline, his body flashing cold and hot as Louis hovers above him so plaint, giving Harry full control. Harry opens his mouth against Louis’, exhaling hotly out of his nose as he captures Louis’ bottom lip in a slow, tender kiss. A soft, sweet whimper slips out of Louis and rips through Harry’s body, lighting him up and pulling him under.

“Lou.” Harry breathes before he presses in for another slow kiss. His hands cradle Louis’ jaw as their lips slot together, pressing warm and gently until there is no air in the room, no sound or scent or touch beyond Louis and his trembling breaths and his sweet lips.

They kiss for what could be minutes or hours, soft delicate swipes of skin against skin. Smooth, lingering pulls on each other’s lips. They kiss without tongue, without urgency or expectation, but a slow burn still builds in the base of Harry’s stomach, his pulse hammers against his ear drums. His breath pants out of him when Louis finally releases him from his enchanting mouth and tucks himself into Harry’s neck.

Harry takes a shuddering breath as his senses return to him, his arms wrap tightly around Louis’ body as he starts to take deep, slow breaths. He feels like he’s been underwater for hours, everything feels fuzzy around the edges, coated in a dreamy haze. Everything except for Louis, who is bold and bright and in hyper-focus. Harry rolls to the side and lets Louis slide off of his body. He shuffles around until Louis is face to face with him.

“Hi…” Harry whispers, his own voice sounds husky and low and for some reason a blush heats his cheek at the unfamiliarity of it. Vivid blue eyes lock with Harry’s and their intensity sends another hot flush twist up his limbs and down to his toes. Louis’ nimble fingers comb through Harry’s curls and pull a pleasant shiver through is spine.

“Hi, Hazza…” Louis bites his lip and glances down to Harry’s. Harry’s eyes wander over Louis’ features in the new light of their first kiss. He looks gorgeous, his lips slightly swollen, his cheeks pink and his eyes shining.

“Soo..” Louis’ cheeks darken to a prettier pink and Harry feels an air giggle tumble out of him. Louis leans forward and captures the sound with his lips, pressing them slowly to Harry’s for one final, tender kiss. Harry’s brain feels sloshy and useless as he pulls away from Louis with a soft clicking sound.

“We’re kissing.” Harry whispers intelligently. Louis’ hand slides down Harry’s neck and over his shoulder. The touch is so familiar that it’s strange to feel it ignite warm butterflies down in his stomach.

“We are. We are kissing.” Louis whispers back.

“I quite like it.” Harry confesses.

His chest feels like its glowing, his fingers are tingling. Louis is smiling at him with heavy lidded eyes and maybe he should be trying to figure out what the hell is happening, but all he can think to do is reach his hand up between their two bodies, and trail his thumb over the tantalizing lips he can still taste on his own. Louis seems to stop breathing for a moment, and every muscle in his body stills against Harry’s for as long as it takes him to swipe his thumb against the swell of Louis’ lips.

“I like it too.” Louis whispers, and then Harry tucks himself up against Louis and lets his eyes drift shut, feeling warm and safe, hidden away in Louis’ arms.


End file.
